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?