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?