Mike takes care of the sea lions, George and Martha. He has a master’s degree in poetry and has worked here, scrubbing the tank, for seven years. Each day at noon he performs a show, throwing fish from a pail to George and Martha as they bob on the surface of the water. Afterward, if the boss isn’t around, he tries to sell copies of his chapbook to the crowd.

One evening after we split a bottle of schnapps, our pants rolled up and our feet in the sea lion pool, Mike told me about how he went diving at night off the coast of Mexico with a few of his buddies. He said jumping into the ocean after dark is like stepping down into a graveyard, falling through the earth, bumping into coffins and bodies, and feeling all of the lost bits and pieces of souls that have seeped into the soil come looking for you. He said he’d never do it again.

The men brought underwater lights to look at things. They attached glow sticks to their tanks, each a different color— green, yellow, purple. They held on to their masks and regulators and fell in backward.

The group went down about eighty feet and let the current take them. Bugs swarmed their flashlights, and Mike could feel little insects wiggling against him as they got caught in his wet suit. He saw giant lobsters, jellyfish, skates, sharks, and other strange things he didn’t know the names for, creatures that only come out at night.

Mike swept the light below. Just beyond the beam was an enormous scaly movement that didn’t seem to end—part of a manta wing, or the curve of a tail. The animal churned steadily beneath him and there were things hanging—spines or leeches—bits of detritus in its wake. Mike willed himself not to panic. He turned off his light, as if caught spying on his neighbors, and paused in the stillness of the water. Then he swam as fast as he could.

He stopped at thirty feet for safety, to keep from getting the bends. He clicked on the flashlight and looked behind him. There was a tiny eel. A school of fish. Mike watched the green glow of a light stick slowly moving toward him and felt a gathering of relief. Together he and his friend treaded water, back and forth, while they waited for their buddy to join them. They could see the purple color of him in the distance.