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?