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?