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?