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?