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?