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?