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?