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Bagatelle

The Club Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

On a face to meet the faces.

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It’s time for tea and existential dread,
Shall we stroll, Miss Eliot and I instead,
Down the fog-choked yellow street,
Where the beat drop hard?

Do I dare intrude upon the human race?
With my nervous self-deprecating bass,
I measure out my verses with espresso spoons;
Their manicured claws dissect them.

And is it worth it? Let me work it.
My thing was put down long ago.
Flipped, reversed to swell a progress—
And in short, I was afraid.

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The Lamp is published by the Three Societies Foundation, a nonprofit organization based in Three Rivers, Michigan, in partnership with The Institute for Human Ecology at The Catholic University of America. Views expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Institute for Human Ecology or The Catholic University of America or of its officers, directors, editors, members, or staff.

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