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?