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?