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?