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?