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?