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?