I Wear the Bottom of My Trousers Rolled

TS Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" feels like reading a fever dream. Opening with an excerpt from Dante's Inferno (aka the bane of my high school existence), I started out with instant confusion.

My favorite couplet, though, is near the end of the poem, after quite a wild ride. It reads, "I grow old... I grow old... / I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled."

As someone who frequently rolls the bottoms of her pants, not only was I called out by the poem, but forced to reckon with the fact that I can relate to such a seemingly nonsensical poem. Perhaps this is supposed to show the inexplicable confusion of life? Or, maybe, every seemingly disconnected bit of the poem is meant to be relatable to someone, and even though to me the whole thing doesn't make the most sense, we are all meant to see a bit of ourselves in it.