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?