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?