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?