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?