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?