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?