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?