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?