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?