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?