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?