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?