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?