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?