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?