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?