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?