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?