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?