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28 <!-- title --> 27<!-- title -->
29 <h1 class="title">Death’s trumpet</h1> 28<h1 class="title">Death’s trumpet</h1>
30
31 29
32 <div class="header-extra">
33
34 <!-- epigraph -->
35 <div class="epigraph">
36 <a href="http://michaelduke.org/2014/07/20/larry-levis-boy-in-video-arcade/"><p>So Death plays his little fucking trumpet. So what, says the boy.</p></a>
37
38 <div class="attrib">Larry Levis</div>
39 </div>
40 </div>
41 </header>
42 30
43 31<div class="header-extra">
44 <section class="content verse">
45 <p><span class="line">He didn’t have any polish so he spit-shined the whole thing</span><span class="line">until it gleamed like a <a href="wallpaper.html">tomato on the vine</a> that was begging</span><span class="line">to be picked and thrown on some caprese. Death loved caprese.</span></p>
46 <p><span class="line">He stood up to put the horn to his lips, trying to imagine</span><span class="line">it was a woman he loved. He blushed as he realized how bad</span><span class="line"><a href="leaf.html">the metaphor was</a>. He practiced anyway for six hours a day</span><span class="line">in front of the mirror—what else to do with all the time?</span></p>
47 <p><span class="line">Death looked at <a href="moongone.html">himself in the mirror</a> as he played, the trumpet</span><span class="line">suspended in midair. <em>Damn vampire rules</em>, he thought.</span><span class="line">He was always worried he might have <a href="january.html">missed a spot</a> while shaving</span><span class="line">but he’d never know unless a stranger—he had no friends—</span><span class="line">was kind enough. Not that he goes out anyway or meets people.</span></p>
48 <p><span class="line">He started waking up late, staying in bed later.</span><span class="line">He started thinking he was depressed. He never did eat</span><span class="line">that caprese, and it started getting soggy, green spots</span><span class="line">spreading on the mozzarella like bedsores. The sun</span><span class="line">filtered through the <a href="what-we-are-made-of.html">kitchen blinds like smoke</a>. He had</span><span class="line">to get out of the house. He decided to go to the arcade.</span></p>
49 <p><span class="line">When he got there, it was empty except for a boy</span><span class="line"><a href="big-dipper.html">with dead eyes</a>. So far so good, Death thought.</span><span class="line">He was playing a first-person shooter, something violent.</span><span class="line">Death walked past him and watched out of the corner</span><span class="line">of his eye. The kid was good. Death decided</span><span class="line">to congratulate him. He had his trumpet in his hand.</span></p>
50 </section>
51 </article>
52 <nav>
53 <div class="anchors">
54 <a href="deathstrumpet_backlinks.htm" id="back-link" title="Links to this page">
55 &phi;
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57 <a href="index.html" id="cover-link" title="To cover">&loz;</a>
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59 </div>
60 32
61 <a class="prevlink" href="todaniel.html" 33<!-- epigraph -->
62 title="Previous article in Elegies for alternate selves"> 34<div class="epigraph">
63 To Daniel: an elaboration 35<a href="http://michaelduke.org/2014/07/20/larry-levis-boy-in-video-arcade/"><p>So Death plays his little fucking trumpet. So what, says the boy.</p></a>
64 </a> 36
65 37<div class="attrib">Larry Levis</div>
66 </nav> 38</div>
39</div>
40</header>
41
42
43<section class="content verse">
44<p><span class="line">He didn’t have any polish so he spit-shined the whole thing</span><span class="line">until it gleamed like a <a href="wallpaper.html">tomato on the vine</a> that was begging</span><span class="line">to be picked and thrown on some caprese. Death loved caprese.</span></p>
45<p><span class="line">He stood up to put the horn to his lips, trying to imagine</span><span class="line">it was a woman he loved. He blushed as he realized how bad</span><span class="line"><a href="leaf.html">the metaphor was</a>. He practiced anyway for six hours a day</span><span class="line">in front of the mirror—what else to do with all the time?</span></p>
46<p><span class="line">Death looked at <a href="moongone.html">himself in the mirror</a> as he played, the trumpet</span><span class="line">suspended in midair. <em>Damn vampire rules</em>, he thought.</span><span class="line">He was always worried he might have <a href="january.html">missed a spot</a> while shaving</span><span class="line">but he’d never know unless a stranger—he had no friends—</span><span class="line">was kind enough. Not that he goes out anyway or meets people.</span></p>
47<p><span class="line">He started waking up late, staying in bed later.</span><span class="line">He started thinking he was depressed. He never did eat</span><span class="line">that caprese, and it started getting soggy, green spots</span><span class="line">spreading on the mozzarella like bedsores. The sun</span><span class="line">filtered through the <a href="what-we-are-made-of.html">kitchen blinds like smoke</a>. He had</span><span class="line">to get out of the house. He decided to go to the arcade.</span></p>
48<p><span class="line">When he got there, it was empty except for a boy</span><span class="line"><a href="big-dipper.html">with dead eyes</a>. So far so good, Death thought.</span><span class="line">He was playing a first-person shooter, something violent.</span><span class="line">Death walked past him and watched out of the corner</span><span class="line">of his eye. The kid was good. Death decided</span><span class="line">to congratulate him. He had his trumpet in his hand.</span></p>
49</section>
50</article>
51<nav>
52<div class="anchors">
53<a href="backlinks/deathstrumpet.html" id="backlinks" title="Links to this page">
54&phi;
55</a>
56<a href="index.html" id="coverlink" title="To cover">&loz;</a>
57<a href="#" id="randomizelink" title="ERROR">&xi;</a>
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59
60<a class="prevlink" href="todaniel.html"
61title="Previous article in Elegies for alternate selves">
62To Daniel: an elaboration
63</a>
64
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67 66
68
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