Alfred Prufrock T S Eliot ◊◊◊◊◊ There is a tree I think of from time to time. A tree in winter, it’s limbs bare. Blackened bark, wet with ...old rain. I stand and look at it’s limbs fracturing upward into low scudding cloud and I am struck by how these bare shoots reach out like nerves, and I wonder what they feel when winter comes, when all memory is holding fast to a fading summer’s light. And what can you say about a marriage that dies, not quietly in winter but in the harsh light of day? What. I picked up the white makeup bag and put my gloss, eyeshadow,mascara, and little round compact in it. I stepped into the sandals.The heels were very low and, at a glance, they looked normal. I grabbedmy textbook, slid my cell into one of the small front pockets of my newshorts, and made my way to the garage and was soon off to class.As I drove I thought about this new twist. In a way, my secret was outso what leverage did Steve and my roommates really have over me? Theythreatened to tell the. More

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