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?