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?