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?