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?