Michael T. Lemanski

O N J. A L F R E D P R U F R O C K’ S G R A V E INSPIRED BY T. S. ELIOT’S POEM “THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK”

On meurt toujours trop tôt - ou trop tard. Et cependant la vie est là, terminée : le trait est tiré, il faut faire la somme. Tu n’es rien d’autre que ta vie.

— J-P. S.

LET US GO THEN , you and I,

To visit him, who has now passed Into a world of shadows, cast Onto a cave wall, awash with cold sweat; Let us go, see the monument, Erected above his stale room— Checked into a hotel he can never leave. And do not cry for him, Do not speak of him.

Oh, do not ask “Why he now?”

Or even “Why he then?”

Let us go and make our visit.

In the place where souls go to rest

Life’s hells now redressed.

Order. Structure. Opulent construction. No cats allowed.

He was a worried man, last I knew him

Deeply disturbed in his thoughts; I liked talking to him—

[As long as you didn’t mention his hair.]

Somehow, he didn’t seem happy with toast

And always cursed when Margret brought him some. I introduced him to yogurt and he loved it; He insisted on it.

Will there be some for him, Mum?

In the place where souls go to rest

Life’s hells now redressed.

And now he will have time

To wonder, “Did I dare?” and, “Did I dare?”

Never to descend St. Peter’s stair, Or again worry about his hair—

[They now say: Nothing. They are also dead.]

Coats, collars, ties and pins, all modest; Now he won’t have for them the oddest

Use—

[They now say: Nothing. * * See above * *] He will forever say: Did I dare

Disturb the Universe?

No.

When I went to the museum I saw hung on a wall Nude Descending a Staircase But I couldn’t see any nude there; They laughed at me and said it was an idea.

I THOUGHT OF HIM.

I had tea with an old lady Who said she knew Warhol But had never spoken to him And I asked her why she was afraid.

I THOUGHT OF HIM.

When I went sailing on Cape Cod I fell off the side of a small boat they had rented me But then two ladies covered in seaweed tried to drown me And I rather liked it.

I THOUGHT OF HIM.

The narrative changed in media res and I didn’t mind… So when will this end?

Squeezed the universe into a ball?

That’s STUPID.

Who does he think he is? Will a green siren serve him his coffee? Stop.