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?