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?