Scene from The Waste Land

(Magritte’s The Lovers II)

The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
Out of the window perilously spread
Her drying combinations touched by the sun’s last rays,
On the divan are piled (at night by her bed)
Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.
I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest–
I too awaited the expected guest.
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare,
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
Endeavors to engage her in caresses
Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defense;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
Bestows one final patronizing kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit…
(Excerpt from T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land)

About Mark Egge

Two truths and a lie: Mark Egge is an outdoor enthusiast, opera singer, and a transportation data scientist. He lives in Bozeman, Montana.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Scene from The Waste Land

  1. Sagar1586 says:

    dude, make your script resize your pics to fit in the column, otherwise it screws up the upper asthetic…

  2. markegge says:

    I’m really not too concerned about the upper astehtic. I’m more concerned about doing justice to the picture I’m posting. Yeah, it messes stuff up, but after a couple days it’ll drop off the front page and things will look right again.