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?