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?