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?