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?