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?