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?