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?