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?