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?