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?