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?