The bluff above the sea.

Often on the way home from work, me and Otterpop have a walk along the bluff above the sea. Only Otterpop goes to work with me these days. Work is not what it used to be, not at all, so usually there's time to park along the highway and for us to walk together out to the edge and stare down at the sea.


It's the wild part of the coast here. Tall jagged cliffs once scaled by whalers, where, when you come to the edge and glance down, turn your stomach of what you see. You're on the edge of the world and below is somewhere I'd never want to go. Maybe on a quiet day you climb down, if the tide's out and the surf is low, but usually you just stay up top and creep back from the edge when the wind's blowing. We walk in the dirt up there, used to be sprouts and berries growing and now gone fallow. A quiet track running along the edge of the world.


The sea took two the other evening, they climbed down the rope, they didn't have no fear of the edge and the water that slams hard enough to eat the rocks into shark's teeth and fish caves and a trillion little pebbles. Three went in and one swam back. Two stayed in and won't never come back up.


The track's mucked up from all the vehicles that drove out there, tried to get in there and find them. Still not found. The families were out there today on the edge, gathered quietly, waiting to see if maybe their loved ones come back. I don't think they will. But maybe. We still walked out there, me and Otterpop. We could see the quiet groups hovering in the same spot they went over, out in the distance. We stay off the edge, stay to the inside, up there on the bluff.