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?