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?