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?