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?