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?