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?