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?