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?