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?