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?