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?