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?