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?