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?