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?