I found this in an old notebook. It’s at least 12 years old, if not older:
The Cold Man
At the bottom of the sea, he sits
Bubbles rising; crystal prints of amorphous spheres
Disappearing into the black above.
Who knows? He hasn’t swam that far.
Maybe yes. Maybe no.
He might break Surface today.
Join the crowd; don The Suit.
Sit for a meeting; drink some coffee.
He’d be back by noon, of course.
He never lasted that long above.
Just like his father.
He who dared to swim below, into the abyss;
Who knows what he found
Down there in the deep?
Maybe I’ll go down tomorrow, the son thinks.
The chance to solve the mystery intrigues him.
He ponders it a while,
Then leaves his sandy perch
and follows the bubbles to the surface,
His long tail tracing ripples in the dark.