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?