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?