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?