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?