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?