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?