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?