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?