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?