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?