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?