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?