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?