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?