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?