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?