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?