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?