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?