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?