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?