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?