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?