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?