let us go then, you and i

domestock, today.

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 tedious argument
of insidious 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, the love song of j. alfred prufrock