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?