The man with the eyepatch
Has something under it
But you’re not sure what
And he doesn’t want to say.

Perhaps he has a glass eye
That he plucks out
To play marbles
With missing children.

At a party you’re drunk and
Ask what’s under there.
He’s furious and for a moment
You think he’ll tear out your eye

To thrust in his vacant socket:
His remaining eye fumes like a volcano.
He dares you to lift the patch.
Look inside, he sneers.

You lift the patch, peer inside.
There’s nothing, just a hole.
You’re so drunk that you
Can shrink, so you shrink until

You fit inside that hole.
He taps you in with a beer bottle,
Then covers the hole with his patch,
So there’s no light.

In darkness, you sit
Cross-legged and sober as he
Chats up your lover.
They ride a cab to his

Ship where they take off
Everything but the patch.
You’re glad you’re in darkness and
Can’t see the start of their romance.