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?