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?