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?