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?