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?