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?