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?