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?