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?