What to make of this iconic song in our fraught cultural moment of Gropageddon?  If a woman asks her male co-worker, over drinks after work at The Bar None,  to "peel me a grape," is it kosher for him to think that she wants him to do anything other than to ... peel ... her ... a ... grape?  Should he ask permission before saving the fuzz for her pillow?

Peel Me A Grape

Peel me a grape, crush me some ice
Skin me a peach, save the fuzz for my pillow
Talk to me nice, talk to me nice
You've got to wine and dine me

Don't try to fool me bejewel me
Either amuse me or lose me
I'm getting hungry, peel me a grape

Pop me a cork, french me a fry
Crack me a nut, bring a bowl full of bon-bons
Chill me some wine, keep standing by
Just entertain me, champagne me
Show me you love me, kid glove me
Best way to cheer me, cashmere me
I'm getting hungry, peel me a grape

Here's how to be an agreeable chap
Love me and leave me in luxury's lap
Hop when I holler, skip when I snap
When I say, "do it," jump to it

Send out for scotch, boil me a crab
Cut me a rose, make my tea with the petals
Just hang around, pick up the tab
Never out think me, just mink me
Polar bear rug me, don't bug me
New Thunderbird me, you heard me
I'm getting hungry, peel me a grape

Donkey Town

Jim likes the wrecker's dogs on chains
And the smoke from the company fires,
Diesel oil in the trucks and cranes
And the smell of burnin' tires.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxRT08n2WbU

Feast If You Would Not Sing

I am not Tippi Hedren.

I invite the birds to pick me clean.

The crows, but also lesser ones --

The chickadees and piping plovers

Parakeets released against all odds

And yes the common terns fed often on the bubbling flats of Brighton Beach

By members (former members) of the Comintern.

Reptilian all.

Remarking that I draw the line at seagulls

Having yellow eyes,

As icy in their feeding

As a mantis biting off at once

The living brain case of a living fly.

A burial by air it has been called.

Dis-integration is another word.

But thank you birds I couldn't do it by myself --

I fed you nuts and popcorn

And you could have held out for Hartz Mountain,

Cursed the god indeed who made you scavengers

Condemned to play your silly tunes at dawn,

When I was hoping that the deepest dark

Would keep the silence

Til I made my peace

With this, my final passage,

Not forsaken,

Passed the chicken wings

And said my prayers,

Still corporeal

If not corporate.

Non-attachment to all things --

It was my mantra

When I was not focusing

On women if the truth be told

Most often in their icy, craven flowerings.

Perhaps the next time

They will draw me close

By asking without pretense

Why the hungry passionless robotic

Caged bird sings.

TFTD:  In the beginning was the word (not the Word).