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?