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?