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?