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?