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?