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?