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?