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?