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?