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?