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?