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?