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?