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?