52-Hertz Whale

We began to speak exclusively in metaphors —a fight broke out at a tulip festivalbetween a bear in a diaperand a guy in tight pants who could shoot lasersfrom his eyes, if you know what I mean.We’d spent weeks traveling across the seawithout ever seeing the sunis another way of putting it.It’s like the deeper you get into it, the lessyou want to know about it.But I couldn’t help myself.A whale had washed up in our backyard,and though I know you’re not supposedto approach them, it didn’t look welland I wanted to bring it a cheese basketand nurse it back to health.That’s when it started. The chest pains,the nausea. Looking back,it all seems so obvious.You know what they say. A beekeeper’s widoweris only as good as the honey he excretes.There’s very little blood in us.We’re on the cusp.Bitches, it’s going to be a long motherfuckingwinter, we think.