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?