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?