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?