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?