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?