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?