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?