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?