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?