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?