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?