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?