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?