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?