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?