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?