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?