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?