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?