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?