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?