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?