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?