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?