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?