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?