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?