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?