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?