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?