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?