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?