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?