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?