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?