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?