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?