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?