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?