Once upon a time ago, there were two tall rubbish things,
when asked by little miss ebonylocks, why they smelled so much,
they stood at a rakish angle, with their heads tied up in slings,
and waved with their flexy wrists, vague reasons or some such.
Pointing straight ahead, with rounded moving hands,
asking grandma's assistance to interpret the news
for the little madam's lofty point of views
from the right side of their necks, to the wrong side of their glands --
"Our feet are meant for running, and the nose is meant to smell;
if your feet smells and your nose runs, you must be made in hell."
With this wise-ish saying, they watched third world cup games
with contrapuntal qualities, and an out-of-sync heart beat
calling out each other, silly made-up names
Puneet became Cris, and Cris turned into Puneet.