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?