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?