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?