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?