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?