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?