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?