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?