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?