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?