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?