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?