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?