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?