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?