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?