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?