Off the Cliff

The car was parked atop the bluff at Noon

The picnic laid, she awaited his return

It was a hot July day along the Pacific coast

The air was moving with a Santa Ana breeze

White caps looking like tennis balls on a dark blue court

Bobbed on the waves out to the end of the horizon

She tied the ribbon of her sun hat more snugly

While she toyed with the kerchief around her neck

White with little blue polka dots

Very smart the saleslady at Bullocks had told her

For his part, he had made his way down to the water’s edge

The trail had been more rugged than anticipated

Especially considering his scuba gear

The sea gulls were circling maybe 300 feet out

Lured by a school of fish about to be dinner

He sat on a rock for a bit and watched their raucous behavior

Rested, he donned his flippers and backed into the sea

He could hear his breathing grow louder as he sank beneath the surface

He was not prepared for the echo; still he persevered

Buoyed by the thoughts of what he might see

Things he’d read about

Sea otters, octopus, snappers

Maybe he’d even snag some abalone for dinner

Sometime around half past two concern crept in

The ice in the cooler had long since melted

The breeze was becoming steadier, more forceful

Some wicked gusts were challenging her patience

Whipping the corners of the blanket

Sending paper plates sailing off the cliff

Walking to the edge, as far as she dared

She craned her neck to look over

Only to see a plate floating atop the water

Nothing else

Feet touching solid ground brought momentary confusion

He looked at his watch but time and distance totally eluded him

He had entered a world where neither held true

He was on a precipice in an underwater world

Looking over and going over the edge merged

He could discern no variation as he fell

The headlong movement framed like stop-motion

As the forest of kelp rose up to greet him

Their limbs outstretched as if to beckon him in

Welcoming and ushering him into their embrace

Holding him close like a baby

Cradled in its mother’s arms

Slowly she packed up the car

Every few seconds looking towards the path down the bluff

The path he’d taken far too long ago now

A leaden weight in her stomach

She put the car in gear, headed down Highway 101

Passing the sign, “Leaving Pt Doom”

She wanted to keep on driving

As far away as she could get

She knew she had to double back

To report an accident up on the bluff

To report the man that walked down the path

The man who walked into the water of the Pacific

To go scuba diving for the very first time

ALONE

The man, her lover

Ignorant of the perils

Oblivious to common sense

An accident for any and all intents

It was deemed a death by drowning

On that summer day - 1961 JUL 09

Yet it still begs the question how could he not have known

The very first page in every diving book says not to dive ALONE