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?