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?