Where It All Goes Down
We don't get any real geographical setting in this poem. Instead, we like to think of the poem's setting as a little place called "Questionville." That's right; no GPS or map can lead you there. You can't sail there or fly in. There is a train, but it's just standing around, and the car seems too guilty to be of use.
So how does one get to Questionville, you ask? It's simple: ask… questions. Questionville is really more of a mindset, a head space, in which the world that seems so familiar to us becomes uncertain and strange. Thanks to all our questions, we're not sure what's real and what's an illusion. Is there a hidden reality to the appearance of a rose? Are evil trees a cautionary tale about our short-sighted sense of cause and effect? Will listening to our cars give us a keener sense of empathy for our planet?
Welcome to Questionville, Shmoopers, population: you.