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?