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?