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?