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?