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?