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?