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?