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?