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?