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?