PUKE EYE.

Puke Eye, 
the tummer one!
Viscerally insidious, 
insipidly emotional -
cerebrally, though 
he's hideous. 

All of his friends 
are such a mess. Ordered 
and tucked and ranked 
just so, they jockey 
and shift positionally 
hoping to catch Puke Eye
off go. Hoping 
to catch
Puke Eye at It. 
They're sure It is he 
who's ordered their mess. 
They've checked and rechecked
It against themselves, and except
for themselves, there's only one
common factor to guess. 

It is he: "he he,
he he" he says going
gliding by, as if in a deeply
darkling hint: "Correct, it is he!
It's me! 'Tis I!" PUKE EYE! 

They just cannot quite believe 
the tint of their spectacles: 
yellow and blue. "Oh say
can't you see it ain't so, Puke Eye?
Not you!" But they do not say 

any such ain't-soings, yet. 

They're afraid of each answer 
that they might get. "How COULD it 
be he?" One wise kind sighs. "He's 
always so tummer?" "What's that 
even MEAN," some dumbass 
replies. "IT IS I!"

SAYS HE!

PUKE EYE! Had passed by 
and listened in, see? And he is 
in pat fact, the tummer one. 
He never claims tummest.
His ego needs reins
to reign in such rains
as the sky downpours. 

For the sun cannot see
such a crying shame. 

If you want? Take a long, 
damp look. It's yours.