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?