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?