Prufrock's Universe

As a teenage girl, I've heard about a million love songs (played on the radio, danced to on T.V., and hummed incessantly by many of my friends) but none have been so depressing in their realism, descriptive in their images, or thought provoking in their nature as "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock".

It seems to me that Prufrock is a man established in society; one who understands social custom and etiquette. He lives in a universe where all actions and thoughts are prescribed, expected, and have their noses powdered. In all of the mannerisms, all of the conformity, Prufrock sees that he is beginning to disintegrate. Love, union with another being, with a woman, seems to be the only thing he truly desires. It would give his life sustenance; protect him from the loneliness of old age. So, this poem is the internal struggle, "Does he dare?" disturb the universe, offer his heart up for a woman, and risk being rejected? "Does he dare?" take no action what so ever, sit and wonder 'what if?', and ultimately end his life as one of those lonely, pipe-smoking men he so despises?

"The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep."

Prufrock is the yellow smoke. Rubbing his back upon the window-panes. Disconnected from the world on the other side, viewing it from behind a glass wall. Like the fog that lingers, Prufrock lingers in indecision and inaction. Like the yellow smoke, Prufrock is only in the present, to fade and disappear in time.

"Arms that are braceleted and white and bare,
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it the perfume on the dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And how should I then presume?
And how should I begin?"

This imagery of a woman shows Prufrock's desire for her. His appreciation for her beauty; his distress over how to approach her.

"I do not think that they will sing to me,
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves,
Combing the white hair of the wave blown back,
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown."

Mermaids are unreal, imaginary, untouchable. Prufrock fears that any spark, attraction he has felt between himself and the woman may have only been imagined. Prufrock decides that 'We' as people of this universe, let ourselves become lost in these wishful thoughts and games, only to be forced back to reality where we find ourselves not with mermaids, but lost at sea. Prufrock does not approach the woman.