<!DOCTYPE html> <!-- AUTOCENTO OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE --> <!-- vim: fdm=indent --> <html lang="en"> <head> <meta charset="utf-8"> <meta name="generator" content="pandoc"> <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0, user-scalable=yes"> <meta name="author" content="Case Duckworth"> <title>Death’s trumpet | Autocento of the breakfast table</title> <link rel="icon" type="image/png" href="trunk/favico.png" /> <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="trunk/style.css"> <script src="scripts/randomize.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script src="scripts/hylo.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <!--[if lt IE 9]> <script src="http://html5shim.googlecode.com/svn/trunk/html5.js"> </script> <![endif]--> </head> <body id="deathstrumpet" class="elegies"> <article class="container"> <header> <!-- title --> <h1 class="title">Death’s trumpet</h1> <div class="header-extra"> <!-- epigraph --> <div class="epigraph"> <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> <div class="attrib">Larry Levis</div> </div> </div> </header> <section class="content verse"> <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> <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> <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> <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> <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> </section> </article> <nav> <div class="anchors"> <a href="backlinks/deathstrumpet.html" id="backlinks" title="Links to this page"> φ </a> <a href="index.html" id="coverlink" title="To cover">◊</a> <a href="#" id="randomizelink" title="ERROR">ξ</a> </div> <a class="prevlink" href="todaniel.html" title="Previous article in Elegies for alternate selves"> To Daniel: an elaboration </a> </nav> </body> </html>