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?