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?