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?