The Yellow Lives of Average Men

Peter lives a yellow life
Of cubes and spheres
And 3D models
Meant to make him feel like
He's in a real world
Instead of flat on a graph
Spiking every now and again

He makes love to his wife
On yellow sheets
Half-underneath a yellow blanket
Where she'll climax
Then crawl into the shower
And wipe the yellowness of him
Off her

She's having an affair
With a purple man downtown
And sometimes she comes home
With blue and red marks
Down her back
But Peter stays quiet

Let her have her fun, he thinks
At least one of us is living

On his way into the office
He sees G. with a green tie

G. dresses himself up
With color to try and distract from the fact
That he's fading away
Day by day

Pretty soon, he'll be a blotch
A smear
A crust on the pie
With no evidence of fruit
Ever having existed

G. invites Peter to the Company Retreat
Where they'll learn
How to love the yellow in their lives
Their work, their art
What they create

And what do they create?

Numbers?
Scales?
Points on lines?

G. and Peter ride the elevator
Up to Floor 3, then 5, then 7
This is their routine

They like to see the stuffed animal stuffers on Floor 3
Then the balloon blower-uppers on Floor 5
Then they go to their yellow office on Floor 7
And sigh, trying to exhale their disappointment

Their jobs are not fun
Like the stuffers
And the blower-uppers

Peter hears about people who have jobs
Riding roller coasters and saying whether or not
They're fun

He wants a job like that
But those jobs are bright pink
And baby blue
And so these are not jobs
He can do

He goes to his desk
Which is across from Joe's desk
And they trade yellow stories back and forth
About furniture their wives want
And toys Joe's kids want
And other jobs they'd both want
If they weren't so grateful
To have jobs at all

Joe heard on the news
That more and more people
Are fading away
The way G. is
Even though G. has a job
Because obviously G. isn't grateful
The way Joe and Peter are

They'll go to wherever you go
When you're not seen anymore
When you become a hue or a tint
Instead of a person

Peter looks down at a picture of his wife
The two of them
Sitting in a rowboat
On a blue, blue lake

Back when they were both young and orange
Their hair two different colors
Their eyes--practically popping
Out of the picture

Peter smiles

And for a second, his smile
Is a little bit orange

But he rubs it away
Like an itch

And in its place
Is an empty patch

A spot
A dime-sized spot

Of fading

But Peter won't notice this
Until he goes home tonight
And brushes his teeth
And sees the spot
And he'll stop
And see
And then keep brushing

But for now, he's completely unaware
And meanwhile, he's fading

And what isn't fading is yellow

Peter looks down at his desk
And sees the work
And his hands
And his pencils
And his fingers
And his blotter
And his arms

And yet all he sees
Is yellow