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?