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?