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?