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?