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?