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?