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?