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?