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?