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?