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?