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?