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?