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?