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?