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?