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?