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?