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?