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?