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?