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?