Time for a change of subject. How about whale-spotting?
Leon Freilich, bidding fair to be his generation’s Ogden Nash, noticed a news story, “A Whale Stops By, but Doesn’t Stay Long,” that related a bodacious game of hide-and-seek earlier this week off the coast of Far Rockaway.
“Reporters raced to the scene,” where a whale was supposed to have come ashore, the story said. “But by the time they arrived, there was no whale to be seen.” Such is life for the breathless New York press corps.
A member of the press himself, Freilich reached into his bag of tricks and turned the account to verse, like so:
WHALE AND FAREWELL
It isn’t often jets of spray
Are spotted in New York’s own bay,
The mammal’s gushers blue and gray
Like a moody painting by Monet
(Or do I mean copain Manet?).
Sea creature, believe me when I say
All the town was hoping you’d stay.
But instead of a daytrip to Rockaway
O whale, you swanned off thataway.
What possible factors did you weigh
That led to this dispiriting display?
Does Gotham’s glass and steel array
Of buildings bring on some dismay
And make you long for the blessèd day
When once again you’re in Monterrey?
You gave us locals no chance to display
Our genuine love of Cetacea at play.
So, whale, next time you’re out this way,
Let’s hoist drinks at an aquatic café.
Freilich adds separately, in mundane prose: “The whale turned out to be cruising not Far Rockaway but Fire Island; and it wasn’t a whale but Prince Charles.”
