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?