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?