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?