literature

No Room for Maestoso

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Literature Text

Sometimes you're a trumpet,
puffing out rhapsodic song.
Wrap me in your fanfare
as I run toward your honeyed sound.
A rainy suit, squeaky shoes.
You just went from regal to blues.
Part 1 of a series.

I like how trumpets are both knightly, masculine, tough and equally bluesy, frail, emotional depending on the instruments that accompany it. Inspired by the large number of handsome men that stand in the rain in suits and untucked dress shirts around Portland with water dripping delicately from their messy hair onto their noses. I have no idea why they do it but it's knightly, poetic, and soulful and I have a hard time looking away when I spot it.
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