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?