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?