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?