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?