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?