Yellow . . .

I smiled listening to the Parachutes CD this morning as I drove to work against a white sky with no sign of yellow sun at all.

Yellow
Coldplay

Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow

I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called, "Yellow."

So then I took my turn
Oh, what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow.

Your skin
Oh yeah, your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful
You know, you know I love you so
You know I love you so.

I swam across,
I jumped across for you,
Oh what a thing to do.

Cos you were all yellow,
I drew a line,
I drew a line for you,
Oh what a thing to do,
And it was all yellow.

Your skin,
Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
And you know for you
I'd bleed myself dry for you,
I'd bleed myself dry.

It's true, look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine.

Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And all the things that you do.

(Lyrics found at coldplay.com)
===================

No greater love, eh?

Lunch with Chris Martin

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
-Coldplay (Chris Martin) from "Fix You"

Try
a weak word, though
more appealing than appalling now

I listen to a red-shirted stranger
yell from the park bench—
his platform for illegible rambling
I pass a minivan
smile at bored children
staring, thinking

one, two, buckle my shoe
three, four, what if the sky were purple or if you could make a mustache out of grass or if I was president of the whole
world, I’d make peace, make all lunchrooms have chocolate milk, make McDonald’s deliver to the house
like Domino’s

their mother behind the wheel
entertains her cell phone

I hear grave dissatisfaction
multiple lies
I know of cracked pots called families
and corporate thieves emptying the pockets of
their wealth's source

I watch the news talk about her drowning
swallowed by the sea
I look at body counts on nytimes.com
I see my lively friend lying nearly lifeless
unable to squelch the arsonist disease
engulfing her body
I imagine his eyes staring into
the barrel of that gun
holding breath
he knows
one shot
will capture

You are pushed from a womb
With all the weakness accompanying birth
I know you cannot
Fix
Your loved one or me or the world

But there’s real beauty in your trying