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?