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?