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?