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?