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?