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?