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?