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?