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?