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?