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?