Rick's Café at the edge of the West End cliff
Sun going copper, the tourists leaning loud
Ankle taped in something dirty white
Letting them believe the jump was for the crowd
Gold in his mouth and an ease in his stance
"Wah gwaan," he told the phones, like he'd give them one glance
He nodded at the water like the two of them went back
Still read the wind the way a man respects a thing like that
I found a spot below the ledge
Ordered something cheap and watched him read the air
Thirty-five feet of nothing between the man and the blue
And nothing in his face that looked like prayer
Thirty-five feet and a Red Stripe dare
Whole bar quiet with salt in the air
Some men fall, some men learn to aim
He hit that blue like he owned his name
He bet the Ohio kid ten American dollars
Said "Watch mi feet — clean as any man that falls"
No wind-up, no countdown, no arms spread wide
Just two heels off the limestone, and that was all
He came back up and shook the water off his face
No smile, just read the surface for a trace
Then he caught me watching from the lower ledge
Said "Mi father did fall once, same place. I jump clean for him."
Thirty-five feet and a Red Stripe dare
Whole bar quiet with salt in the air
Some men fall, some men learn to aim
He hit that blue like he owned his name
Tourists move on, cameras put away
Another charter dropping anchor in the bay
He jumped three more times in the falling heat
Same tape, same ledge, same angle, same clean feet
I stayed beside the lower ledge past dark
Watching the surface smooth and lose the mark
The bar got loud again the way bars do when night draws near
And the diver dried off and went and had a beer
Thirty-five feet and a Red Stripe dare
Whole bar quiet with salt in the air
Some men fall, some men learn to aim
He hit that blue like he owned his name
I left before the fire show started
Kept that small splash in my ear
I walked home in wet sandals
Like it wasn't clear