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?