Erica Jong - The Catch lyrics

You take me to the restaurant where one plays God over a fish tank. The fat trout pace their green cage, waiting to be taken out of an element. Who knows what they know? There are thirteen in a tank meant for goldfish. I don¹t care which one I eat. But the waiter expects a performance, con brio. This is a ritual solemn as wine-tasting or the Last Judgement. Eating is never so simple as hunger. Between the appetite and its satisfaction falls the net, groping blindly in dark water. The fish startle and thrash. You make your catch, flourishing a bit for the waiter so as not to be thought a peasant. You force air into the trout's gills as if he were Adam, and send him squirming toward the kitchen to be born. Then it's my turn. I surprise myself with my dexterity, almost enjoying the game. A liter of wine later, the fish return, foppishly dressed in mushrooms and pimentos, their eyes dreamily hazed. Darling, I am drunk. I watch you pluck the trout's ribs out of your perfect teeth.