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?