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?