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?