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?