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?