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?