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?