Light of my life, fire of my loins
My sin, my soul
VNM
The tip of the tongue
Taking a trip of three steps down the palette
To tap at three on the teeth
Lo li ta
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
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 princeton by the sea
I've never been asked to do this
I know, and not that you do
When you do what you do
We are doing this? What's wrong with you?