Loss Lolita
(with apologies to Gertrude Stein)

Eventually it all starts to unravel, to be becoming, to be unraveling.
Living in the own living of my life,
Which is also descending like it has from day one.
Living a descended life, this life of all meanings,
Like the feeling of a her living inside my face, in the happiness of my face.
That small momentary feeling of ascension, maybe years, maybe minutes,
That idea once that maybe with little effort
Now my spirits will be lifted, like they are, like climbing
The climb you can make with love, the touch of her love,
The idea that she loves you, that she once loved you, she once loved you,
That she knew you, even if she didn't know you,
This descending life keeps descending, life is a declension, a declining decline,
A yard sale with all the objects no one wants any more,
Nothing new, nothing not for sale
A falling down of rain raining down, down on the yard and all objects for sale,
To not drink, to only drink once, to only look at her, maybe once and then no more.
This is all it takes for the living non-ascension,
The unhappy warm face unsmiling, un-living,
This is all it takes to let it all leave you, a single love left and gone,
The eternal hope for a life ascending, like a child in a book,
Climbing up to a better place, to not touch or drink, to run out of objects for sale,
No more things for sale, to let it all alone, and merely look,
To let it all fall down and not ascend no more nor any more.