Lament of a White Whale
Call me There She Blows. At least that’s what they call me. They are an interesting but baffling species. I still can’t fathom why they even come out here to sea, where they are so obviously fish out of water. I suppose that’s why they take the land with them. I can usually hear them from leagues away, their squawks vibrating through the skins of their floating islands, drumming the deep with their relentless chatter, and upsetting everyone’s peace of mind. Then, as their island draws nearer, their trees break the horizon, its leaves billowing white; and on the treetop, there’s always a loud one with a carrying voice; and when he sees me, he calls out my name. That’s their cue to hoot and howl and bumble over each other like a bunch of dopes. They call themselves men, but I call them very entertaining.
