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?