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?