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?