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?