There was a walrus
used to hang with whales.
His bonding efforts
all were epic fails.
He had no blubber
nor blow hole.
He didn’t have
a whaling soul.
His tusks, they said,
were too damned long.
He couldn’t sing
the whaling song.
His body couldn’t glide
throughout the water.
They shunned him
and he said, Okay,
go on about
your humpback way.
I’ll miss your krill,
but I won’t miss
your slaughter.