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?