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?