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?