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?