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?