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?