(Mary Chapin Carpenter)



Today Joseph is sitting alone, with occasional nods to the waitress

She tops off his cup while she's snapping her gum, making her rounds on the lunch shift

Counting out coins, he leaves them arranged, in neat lines and circles and arcs

She just stares at the tip that spells out her name and ideas are like stars



And yesterday pedaling down 4th Avenue, between the stalls and the bookshops

The sepia tones of a lost afternoon cradled a curio storefront

And inside the air was thick with the past, as the dust settled onto his heart

And here for a moment is every place in the world and ideas are like stars



They fall from the sky, they run round your head

They litter your sleep as they beckon

They'd teach you to fly without wires or thread

They promise if only you'd let them



For the language of longing never had words, so how did you speak from your heart

Yet here is a box that swears it has heard that ideas are like stars



Tonight Joseph stood out in the yard, as Debussy played from the kitchen

Celestial companions `til mornings first lark, shone overhead and he listened

And who was that shadow there by the gate, who was that there standing guard

It was only loneliness, and loneliness waits, and ideas are like stars

Ideas are like stars