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?