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?