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?