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?