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?