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?