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?