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?