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?