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?