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?