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?