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?