Fruit For Thought…

Peter O’Toole raised his glass.  “I grow old… I grow old… I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.  Shall I part my hair behind?  Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.  I hear the mermaids singing each to each…”  He paused for effect and fixed Sam’s (Pekinpah) eyes with his own.   “I do not think they will sing to me… or thee.”

Quote from Cultural Weekley by Garner Simmons

“Belly Good” by Marge Piercy

A heap of wheat, says the Song of Songs
but I’ve never seen wheat in a pile.
Apples, potatoes, cabbages, carrots
make lumpy stacks, but you are sleek
as a seal hauled out in the winter sun.
I can see you as a great goose egg
or a single juicy and fully ripe peach.
You swell like a natural grassy hill.
You are symmetrical as a Hopewell mound,
with the eye of the navel wide open,
the eye of my apple, the pear’s port
window. You’re not supposed to exist
at all this decade. You’re to be flat
as a kitchen table, so children with
roller skates can speed over you
like those sidewalks of my childhood
that each gave a different roar under
my wheels. You’re required to show
muscle striations like the ocean
sand at ebb tide, but brick hard.
Clothing is not designed for women
of whose warm and flagrant bodies
you are a swelling part. Yet I confess
I meditate with my hands folded on you,
a maternal cushion radiating comfort.
Even when I have been at my thinnest,
you have never abandoned me but curled
round as a sleeping cat under my skirt.
When I spread out, so do you. You like
to eat, drink and bang on another belly.
In anxiety I clutch you with nervous fingers
as if you were a purse full of calm.
In my grandmother standing in the fierce sun
I see your cauldron that held eleven children
shaped under the tent of her summer dress.
I see you in my mother at thirty
in her flapper gear, skinny legs
and then you knocking on the tight dress.
We hand you down like a prize feather quilt.
You are our female shame and sunburst strength.

Marge Piercy

“James And The Giant Peach” by Roald Dahl


“But then he feels it. Something is going to happen. Aunt Spiker spots it first: a peach growing high in their single peach tree. Growing and growing till it’s as big as fat Aunt Sponge, and then as big as their house! All greedy Sponge and Spiker can think is that the remarkable peach will make them rich. But James knows. ‘Something else, something stranger than ever this time, is about to happen to me again soon.”

– Roald Dahl