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?