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author | Case Duckworth | 2015-01-29 10:36:44 -0700 |
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committer | Case Duckworth | 2015-01-29 10:36:44 -0700 |
commit | f00d869e4c0e64be6093e4980e62e3c9b9b33cc9 (patch) | |
tree | 719c216fdf115c3c40d73609ff5a3a0bc3648fed /43-deathstrumpet.txt | |
parent | Create README.html and link from index (diff) | |
download | autocento-f00d869e4c0e64be6093e4980e62e3c9b9b33cc9.tar.gz autocento-f00d869e4c0e64be6093e4980e62e3c9b9b33cc9.zip |
Add links to Elegies; write TODO.txt
Diffstat (limited to '43-deathstrumpet.txt')
-rw-r--r-- | 43-deathstrumpet.txt | 35 |
1 files changed, 35 insertions, 0 deletions
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1 | --- | ||
2 | title: 'Death's Trumpet' | ||
3 | project: 'Elegies for Alternate Selves' | ||
4 | epigraph: 'So Death plays his little fucking trumpet. So what, says the boy.' | ||
5 | epigraph-credit: 'Larry Levis' | ||
6 | ... | ||
7 | |||
8 | He didn't have any polish so he spit-shined the whole thing, \ | ||
9 | top to bottom. It gleamed like maybe a tomato on the vine \ | ||
10 | begging to be picked and thrown on some caprese. Death loved caprese. | ||
11 | |||
12 | He stood up and put the horn to his lips, imagining \ | ||
13 | it was a woman he loved. He blushed as he realized \ | ||
14 | it was a terrible metaphor. \ | ||
15 | He practiced for six hours a day---what else to do? | ||
16 | |||
17 | Death looks at [himself in the mirror][moongone] as he plays. \ | ||
18 | The trumpet is suspended in midair. Damn vampire rules. \ | ||
19 | Death is always worried he might have missed a spot shaving \ | ||
20 | but he'll never know unless a stranger is polite enough. \ | ||
21 | Not that he ever goes out or meets anyone. | ||
22 | |||
23 | He wakes up late these days. Stays in bed later. \ | ||
24 | He thinks he might be depressed. The caprese has gotten soggy \ | ||
25 | since he made it, maybe three days ago or maybe just two. \ | ||
26 | The sun streams through his kitchen blinds like smoke. \ | ||
27 | He decides to go to the arcade. When he gets there, | ||
28 | |||
29 | there's only a [little boy][] with dead eyes. So far so good. \ | ||
30 | He's playing a first-person shooter. Death walks past him \ | ||
31 | and watches out of the corner of his eye. The kid's good. \ | ||
32 | Death wants to congratulate him. His trumpet is in his hand. | ||
33 | |||
34 | [moongone]: 28-moongone.html | ||
35 | [little boy]: 15-angeltoabraham.html | ||