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?