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?