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?