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?