Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "BRIGADOON!"

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Brigadoon."

(dedicato:  Craig Jobe. R.I.P. Soldier-HERO in Vietnam, Inventor-Unique & Carol Aniello's/Dave Delacroix's best friend.)

(Brigadoon!" Once every year, the SCOTTISH LEGAND has it's been told, the FOG lies over the LOCH & all your Ghosts/Legends/Heroes descend from Valhalla to sing, dance in a festival of yesteryear & make "WHOOPIE!!!"

"Brigadoon!"...

 In remembrance, in Emporium: THE GHOSTS of our lives... ever be kind? Laments, regrets? Will they never CEASE that persecution in our SLEEP or let us recline? Alas. "Le plate de Jour"! We REAP what we SOW not caring the Morrows, debut an Oboe, a solo, a meteor in the night, 

...that singular WULPH!... an aghast "Honey," A nature's flatulence-UN-bodily. UN-controlled, a cerebral SMEAR, the artwork on your wall? "Honey, did U get that painting at the Flea Market? Did U paint it?" Some mirror. Some soul? "I could-a POSED!?" Leastways: "A.I." (Craig Jobe, laughing upstairs!) ...as we imagine all our DEPARTED, keeping the upstairs the beer on ice, smiling?

Who WAILS, the UN-foreseen, the ghosts, the HAUNTING, some ZIG-ZAG, a T.V. remote; just WHO - in the nights sky - moved OUR Elon Musk Satellite Moon? -David Bowie's movie: "The Man who fell to Earth?" -whose kiss did U last tasted? Did U write a Poem. Did U give a darned, Like a Man! Like a Girl? Legs a-akimbo: Come and get me-World? SURELY I WILL Frick U!

The Man U first loved in the lowlands, in the highlands, Loch Lomond. It was "a bonnie Wee Lass", a HIGHLAND- Scottish -regalia, fife & drum to herald a Maid, married at a Celliedh/Scottish Rave to sing of her virginity's loss, pipes & drums. Haggis munches & the Pipes!

 A fool in a Zoom. A fool in a Zoom, Lanvin No 6 lipstick at your last encounter? (Don't feel guilty/face-cosmetics, Monte Carlo, Cannes, boulevard des Anglais) ...when LOVE takes its token? Girl or Boy> U lie on the beach. What is your Want? What is your need? Spandex? A skeletal clothed in muscle, nerves & vivacity.

"OUT DAMNED SPOT!" (Scottish Play/Lady Macbeth) Ghosties in the night, that inner resurrection, what TITS or DICKS that writhe like serpents, let our secret nightmares dance, let those damned ghosts in our mind, twisting & turning, an inner burning, rogue, ever thriving, yet do leave us behind: 

AS ALWAYS, Hollywood SUITS, poking in their Gucci clothes noses. (Hanging on by their fingernail/expenses-jobs) ...

For WE!!! A "BRIGADOON" A mystery. A thought in the fog. Our love, regrets, the horrors we take to our grave. A Scottish Highland song, pipes & all to Brigadoon! The BAGPIPES RAVE! As we lament what pieces of our heart we can STILL SAVE! "OCH AYE!!!" To that fog of Brigadoon.

c.dave delacroix.2026