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?