Lola
you're the little girl woman
You're a pair of short shorts
leggings with lace
powdered face
Eyeliner dark
dark

Secret girl
your wiles and your wiles are mysteries
histories
how many tales have you told, now you're old?
you're chronicled yourself
and haven't told anyone, anyone

Lolita
you know the whispers of the woods of plaster
You know what the black paint has seen
a dream
A place where ladies aren't ladies anymore
the virgin's now a whore
The lady's now a lad
everything they've had
leaves them under the spolights

"And what is left when your memories, your identity... Mrs. Smith?"

Lolita's left
GRACEful

Quote; "Our Town", by Thornton Wilder