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?