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?