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?