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?