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?