Pobre Alfred, Pobre Charlotte

The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock (<-Click to read the whole poem.  It's long, but worth it.)

by: T.S. Eliot

To me, this poem is everything.

I am Alfred.

"Do I dare disturb the universe?"

Do I?  Do I dare to speak?

"For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,         

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons..."

With coffee spoons... because I am oh so very dull.  Like the thud of heavy feet on the steps leading down to the cellar.  That's where we keep the applesauce and the canned beans.  I am so dull, like the food my dog eats.

"I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid."

My last chance came, my last chance passes.  I watch it go from the backseat on the bus.  I wonder where I'll end up, now that we've parted.  And I'll try to not care so much.

I'd rather stay sleeping all day.  

"Would it have been worth while

If one ... should say: 'That is not it at all, 

That is not what I mean at all.'"

That is not what I mean at all.

That is not it at all.