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?