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?