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?