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?