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?