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?