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?