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?