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?