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?