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?