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?