To J. Alfred Prufrock

To J. Alfred Prufrock

Shall we drift
together... apart?
Upstream ...downstream
Or no stream at all?
Do we dare to believe in mythical shores?

Within the spaces there is time
To reconsider and deny
To revise and compromise.
Within the lapses there is time
To reverse and curse
And stop the turning of the tide.

Can it be done?
Can it be done?
Can the moments be unraveled
Like the bunched up yarn upon the table
On the table waiting,waiting
Hoping to be undone?

So, do we dare?
Oh, do we dare?
Do we turn back upon those stairs?
Decide within a minute
What a minute can undo?

Do we dare
Oh, do we dare?
Look back without a care?
Shrug and say
What did it matter?
After all, what did it matter?
The waning fire,the cold disgrace
The licking fog upon our face?


Yes, I know, I know!
I grow old, I grow old!
I wear my trousers to the knee
I see bald corpses in my tea.

So let us go, then, Alfred dear
Let us go through “half-deserted streets”
To that restaurant with the oysters shells.
Let us get down to that business
To that final, gruesome business
As overwhelming as it is.
Shall we let the reaper in?
Yes, let us go and make that visit.

So what if the people come and go
Talking of Michelangelo?