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?