Of Peaches And Mash

Yesterday, Anonymous commented...

It occurred to me to take T. S. Eliot's immortal classic, Prufrock, and mash it up, that is tweak it to fit Hudson. I abandoned this venture when I realized that I did not need to alter so much as a syllable - the poem already perfectly captures the place.

So I mashed it up with the nearest other poem I had at hand.

Love Song of the Erotic Double

Let us go then, you and I, he says.
He doesn’t feel like working today
When the evening is spread out against the sky.
It’s just as well here in the shade
Like a patient etherised upon a table behind the house protected from street noises.
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets one can go over.
All kinds of old feeling, the muttering retreats.
Throw some away, keep others of.
Restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
The wordplay and sawdust.
Restaurants with oyster shells.
Between us - gets very intense when there are
Streets that follow like a tedious argument,
Fewer feelings around to confuse things of insidious intent.
Another go-round? No, but the last.
Things (to lead you to an overwhelming question you always find to say) are charming. And rescue me – oh!
Do not ask, ‘What is it?’ before the night does.
We are afloat.
Let us go and make our visit on our dreams as on a barge.
Made of ice, in the room the women come,
And go shot through with questions and fissures.
Of starlight talking, of Michelangelo. That.
Keep us awake thinking about the dreams!
Do I dare as they are happening? Some occurrence…
You said it: disturb the universe?
I said it but I can hide it. But I choose not to.
In a minute. There is time?
Thank you. You are a very pleasant person.
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
Thank you. You are too.
Peach?

November 24, 2009