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?