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?