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?