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?