(no subject)
- Lyle Gomes.
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky,
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats,
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insiduous intent
to lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit
-T. S. Eliot.