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?