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?