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?