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?