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?