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?