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?