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Peaches

You step on the gas, honey, then take your foot off the clutch.
You step on the gas, honey, then take your foot off the clutch.
This little car is going nowhere, honey, without your touch.
 
It’s like the natural landscape, mountains, valleys, and trees.
It’s like the natural landscape, mountains, valleys, and trees.
If a river starts in the mountains, it’s got to end in the seas.
 
Don’t know a thing about motors, I don’t know a thing about wheels.
Don’t know a thing about motors, I don’t know a thing about wheels.
Please race my engine again like that, I know how excited it feels.
 
Honey would you bring me poems, honey would you bring me wine.
Honey would you be my shelter, in case the weather ain’t fine.
But if the knives and forks is out, oh honey, don’t you think we should dine.
 
If you don’t like my peaches, why do you shake my tree.
If you don’t like my peaches, why do you shake my tree.
Get out of the orchard, and let my little fruit trees be.

Alicia Ostriker reads “Peaches.”

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Alicia Ostriker

Alicia Ostriker is a poet and critic. Her most recent collections of poetry are The Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog and Waiting for the Light. A two-time finalist for the National Book Award, she teaches in the low-residency MFA program at Drew University.