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?