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?