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?