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?