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?