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?