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?