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?