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?