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?