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?