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?