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?