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?