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?