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?