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?