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?