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?