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?