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Prufrock (Paraphrased) This is a paraphrase of T. S. Eliot's poem"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". I would encourage the reader to read Eliot's poem as well as mine. Let�s you and me get out of here. It's late� the sun is setting� There�s an unconscious man on the table� Let�s get out of here, let�s walk along empty streets Lets go to some cheap motel Let�s get a bite to eat at some cheap restaurant. The streets go on and on like arguing philosophers�. �What is it?� Don�t ask me that! Let�s go. There�s all these people talking about Michelangelo. I hate Michelangelo! He�s so annoying! I can�t stand him! Let�s get out of here. It�s so foggy! All this yellow fog. It�s all over the windows! And it�s in the puddles on the street! I can�t stand this stupid yellow smoke! And this soot! All over the house! Hey, it�s October. I�m going to bed. Time� time� So much time� Let�s get some toast and tea. There they go about Michelangelo again! What is it about this guy� how can they keep talking about him! �Do I dare? Do I dare?� It�s not time to ask that yet. Let�s go back downstairs. �You�re going bald.� Hey, how do you like this coat? And how about this tie? Pretty rich, huh? �You�re too thin.� I�m going to disturb the universe in a minute or so. Morning, noon, and night. I spend them drinking too much coffee. There�s voices and music coming from another room. Should I pretend to understand? The eyes� the eyes! They pin me to the wall! How should I know what they want? Why do they care what I do all day? How should I know? Your pale arms shine in the darkness The scent of your clothes makes me think of them. You put your elbows on the table. You hold your shawl in your hands. Do I know? Can I touch you? Should I tell you what I was doing last evening? I wish I was a lobster. The day drags on so quietly! After we eat dessert, should I ask you? I�ve been weeping! I dreamt that I was John the Baptist, and my head was on a platter! How crazy� I�m no prophet! I dreamt that my life passed by my eyes! And that the grim reaper grabbed at me! I was afraid! It wouldn�t be worth it to tell you this. After dessert, among small talk, it wouldn�t be worth it to ask you. It wouldn�t be worth it to say, �I am Lazarus, I have come from the dead to tell you everything.� It wouldn�t be worth it if you fell asleep, saying �That�s not what I meant.� What if years passed by? What if we lived together for years and you looked out the window and said, �That�s not what I meant! I don�t know how to say what I mean, but it wouldn�t be worth it. I�m no Hamlet. I�m more like an attendant. A fool, maybe. But no prince. I�m getting old. I�m cuffing my pants. I�m going to part my hair different. I don�t like peaches. I like the seaside. I hear voices in my head, singing to each other, but they don�t sing to me. Sometimes I see mermaids in the waves when it gets stormy. Sometimes I see them in the water when I�m swimming. But it�s all a dream, and waking up is like drowning. Back |