Soror Ipsum Attilan

My older sister Madeleine

Is a dame hardboiled as Ma Dillon

With a horror of the maudlin,

Who walks the walk of her dogma, telling

Stories that are cranium addling.

One day, when I was made illing

By pickles from a may dilling,

I was soon fair to middling

As she sung me a song on her mandoline:

An inspiring tale of mettle and

Dumb luck for those who muddle on:

A con man, Al, and his mate, Ellen.

El was some broad Al met along

The way to Vegas, a maid alone,

Not one to settle for the mid-lane

Life, but wild as a nomad, aligned

With that famous mad doll, Ayn

Rand, of objectivism’s moot line.

They did a drug deal at a motel inn,

Nabbed by two narcs who meddled in.

The cops won some medallion

For police who act the meta-lion.

Before either could pin his medal on,

They were hit with a lawsuit of mad élan:

Set up by crooks-in-the-mud Al and

El, brainy, oblongata medullan,

Who’d faked the drug mood, dealing

Only sugar. It seems they’d been modeling

ATF incompetence.

And on that doormat, I’ll end.

#Sister #experimental