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?