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?