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?