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?