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?