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?