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?