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?