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?