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?