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?