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?