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?