The Atoll

Hector (cont.)
Our Plasma shall dig out those mean buffoons
Plasma
There was one straggler aping walking frame
Deliberately or not I know not
Hector
Gloria the spinster centagenarian
The wily party strategist you mean
The governors loyal counsel tears and snoot
Trail down her long nose whiskers round her lips
Collect in her unwaxed bum fluff goatee
As she sucks deep dear breath against the breeze
And dodders from one milestone lava lump
To next and rests her backside tired on each
She is a whisker off senility
Plasma
A natural look such as not for me
The crystal bouy reveals her stately joy
Now she paws myopically mystified