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?