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?