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?