lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. my sin, my soul. lo-lee-ta:
the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap,
at three, on the teeth. lo. lee. ta.

i've lost you, i've lost you, i've lost you.

she was lo, plain lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock.
she was lola in slacks. she was dolly at school. she was dolores on the dotted line. but in my arms she was always lolita.

did she have a precursor? she did, indeed she did.
in point of fact, there might have been no lolita at all had i not loved, one summer,
a certain initial girl-child. in a princedom by the sea.

"i saw you this morning and i thought that you'd like to know
that i received your message in full a few days ago."

oh when?
about as many years before lolita was born as my age was that summer.

i'm not the kind that likes to tell you that you can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.

ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the
, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs,
look at this tangle of thorns

do you find that this happens all of the time?
i don't know why i feel so dry
My old guitar teacher is in a band called Lola In Slacks
But boys will be boys and girls have those eyes
that'll cut you to ribbons, sometimes
and all you can do is just wait by the moon
and bleed if it's what she says you ought to do