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?