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?