I throw my glistening silver euphonium
into the air.
It spins with constant and perfect revelations,
and when it is done, it slips
into my expecting hands,
and I take it by the gentle edges of the bell
and with a great wild swing of my arms,
slam it into the cold hard earth, and
it stands,
Half-burried like a sign post,
and I stomp on it a few times,
and then leave it there.
I am a barritone player.
I am a barritone player.