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?