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?