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?