Last week I revised up on my T.S Eliot knowledge for a reading group, and have become addicted to listening to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock on youtube. Having listened to it several times yesterday morning I began writing a pastiche of it. Here it is:
Have you heard the choirs singing?
In the street the clock is ticking
Marking off the hours as they march
Onwards towards the darkening of the sky
Come Christmas among the dimming streets
They will knock, in groups, in twos and threes
They will lift their voices in soprano,
In tenor, contralto, in the air,
which absorbs their notes.
I stop at Sainsbury’s and buy a cream cake box
Wonder what it costs for a parking slot
We hard boil the eggs
I will wake upon my mobile’s high pitched chime
Buy very many bottles of red wine.
We hard boil the eggs, and peel their shells
We will dress up, go hear the wedding bells.
I have served at many wedding tables
Arranged the decorated chairs that flounce
As if they were another set of bridesmaids
And I’ve refilled the glasses of the couples
Who mutter to each other, then become jovial
Who eat the three course meal, then dance
To hey Macarena, and old tuned romance.
On the stage the bel canto sings, I sip and wait
And think of other things.