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?