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?