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?