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?