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?