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?