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?