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?