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?