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?