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?