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?