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?