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?