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?