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?