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?