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?