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?