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?