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?