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?