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?