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?