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?