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?