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?