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?