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?