Loss

Something happened to me, but I forgot what it was Regardless of regard, love, warmth, vitamins and milk. Cigarettes and long walks through fleeting concentration I have an idea that what I thought mattered changed. I was brought up, and let go, I was taken there lacking And when bathing quit, sleep folded, and answers caved. People began to need more of what identifies them From their clothes, kisses, small talk, and sincerity. But the day I was born Nixon lied and Elvis died And all of the things I wrote my name upon vanished. There are pictures and sweet notes still kept loosely Among crenellated landscapes I recall out of habit. If I keep separating and dividing these variables Perhaps I will formulate an old way to feel new.