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?