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?