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?