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?