winds esker               
  
                                          
 there  was this place that for two years 
 i  couldn't  go to.  regardless how much 
 discussed with  others,  or pointed  out 
 on maps,  i could not  think  of it when 
 alone.  i  would often  travel  past the 
 fork, where  a right  turn  would surely 
 take me there, but even  then, something 
              kept me away.               
                                          
 when i finally  got  there,  after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the  place  was   surreal.  an 
 esker,  like  a needle-thin rift  out in 
 the   lake,  but  ten  meters  high  and 
 adorned in birch,  willow,  bracken, and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice the  view to either  side.  there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't  recognize them. first  off, they 
 were much too close,  as the lake should 
 stretch  for  a hundred  meters  more on 
 both  sides.  but now  i  felt  i  could 
 almost reach out  and  touch  them.  and 
 then, when  i realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they  were  of the right  lake. but this 
      lake is large, fractured, and       
 bipartite. like a pair  of  lungs carved 
 into the granite, and  with no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
     impossibly close shores, i slowly    
 understood them  as belonging many miles 
                  away.                   
                                          
 i  examined  the  ridge,   the  treeline 
 above. was this what you  saw  opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                 remember.                
                                          
 carrying  forward, on  the  very tip  of 
 the  esker,  i  found the ruins  of some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
 marble staircases, stone floors beneath  
 the  moss,  and  strange  slabs inserted 
 into  the slope  like dams  against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there,  i could  see across  the 
 narrowed lake  my entire path to where i 
 sat:  from  the  stairwell of my  house, 
 through  the old woods  behind  the tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and then  back  under  it, 
 through  the  fancy   villas,  over  the 
 fields, and then that right  turn at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and then  the stairs  up on  the  ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this was  probably  it. 
 hidden in  a  grove,  there were  stairs 
 much  like  the ones i currently sat on, 
 old and  worn down,  that  lead  you  up 
 onto the esker. the point of  entry. had 
 i insted opted to  walk the path at  its 
 foot, i'm  sure my  experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the  lake,   there  were  people  in 
 boats. i wondered,  could they even  see 
 me?  if  i  shouted,  would they turn to 
         stare right through me?