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?