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?