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

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

(Singing:) ...I AIN'T GOT DAT DAMN WHOOSITS anymore! THINK -the Blues without no shoes or your Mammas cookin without chilli? I ain't dat whoosits anymore.

I ain't got no BOOGALOO. I ain't got no Boogaloo. I pawned my guitar/w-Soul, got $29 (no alligator purse), seemed like a good deal at the time, bought me a bottle of "Nigh Train" (fortified wine) & slurped it, back & forth on the Staten Island ferry.

I ain't got no needles, NOR DOOZIES on my arm. She left me for some other suckers' wallet/charms. And I ain't got dat whooses anymore. Every cloud (LOL) has a silver whoosits!?...

And my hair going gray (wotchagonnaDO?) I still place a bet or 2, yesterday I bought a new pair of shoes bit I AIN'T got DEM WHOSSITS anymore.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Life on a Sweet-Roll!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Life on a Sweet Roll!"

(F.Y.I.: A "Sweet Roll" here in BELIZE is a family staple; a bread bun we love.)

"Life on a Sweet Roll."

...LIFE ON A SWEET ROLL, ham/cheese atop & a glass of Champagne & U can wear a High Hat?

Life on a Weekend, a date-night kiss in the dark; that fireworks' night ZING U never forget.

Life ON a Sweet Roll, Belizean-style: A samba, a boogie, a walk down the aisle?

Life in the making until it somehow disappears; life on a Sweet Roll: But never!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "MOJO-LAMENT!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Mojo-lament!"

...GOT MAH MOJO WORKING - these days? - mostly in the morning, the light of dawn. 

...I got a ZILLION excuses just why, just WHY I was so blind?

These days: NOW! I'm "auctioned-off!" in some rusted-Used Car lot; the CLASSIC I used to be.

...Still. Got my MOJO - in the morning! My afternoons, a highway cruise.

But wherever these days I'm driving my Motor still purrs as if running to U.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

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

...(I say:) EASY ON THE PARMESAN, it dries up the Pasta sauce; the Linguini will wave its own white flag. AND do NOT go with Habaneros Chilies into that Curry night? Your dinner guests, around your elegant table: A petrified Forest!!! (Poor charred bastards!)

CUCINA (Kitchen) "weekenders" abound including their USE & ABUSE of Garlic/Cilantro, menu extras like Seaweed or "Heart-ti-Choked" laced Colman's mustard which CAN, ahem, prove FATAL; husband-deaths by avaricious Spinsters - I'm sure - Sherlock Holmes uncovered many a Case? GASLIGHTING, in its Societal-infancy I fancy? An Escargot here & there?

And don't get me STARTED! -On Agatha Christie who DID try to be discreet for long-suffering, working class housewives, specifically, non-aristocrats, whose husbands, cantankerous, who, Mill slaves/Coal Miners, whined-abused, probably drunk who "brought home the BACON."

And LESS said 'bout DAT! Bacon, anyways, ignited their Colon Cancer! A Victorian-Age Pathologist's "misty-fiable-conclusion!" Islamist would consider it "Infidel" retribution. Their Widows/with Kids escaped back to the country!

Yet WHO!? (Reiner Maria RILKE, German Poet:) IN the Kitchen, maybe CONNECTED to the Order of the Angels (!?) The ORDER of the GOLDEN SPOON!!? Those white-winged/fluffy/Cats when I CITE THE BORGIAS, culinary-poisoning - de rigeur - or the TIP of a SWORD to dispose of HAMLET; a "Mission-Impossible" ("This TAPE will self-destruct in 30 seconds!), HISTORY'S ENCORE! A bleak silence.

I Just made some SOUP! It's call BRIGADOON! Named after a Scottish Legend, a mystic Country, that only comes, once of a Winter's Year. My SOUP! It's my own recipe. Anybody hungry?... A THOUSAND-YARD STARE & I'll know, Brigadoon; you'll be welcome there!

c.2026. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "An Origami of the Mind!"

 Our Man in Europe/now, Belize/Dave Delacroix: "An Origami of the Mind!"

...DADDY WOULDN'T BUY ME A "BOW-WOW!" Daddy wouldn't buy me a Bow-Wow! I had a little CAT & I'm very fond of DAT but I'd rather have a Bow-wow-wow!...

...There ain't nothing like a DANE (the Dannish) nuttin in the World; when they banned/deported - that Trojan Horse - Islamic-Sharia-Law!

(Belize Grocery list:)  CAT FOOD - BZ$: 30. VODKA - BZ$: 30. WHISKY - BZ$: 120. Wheat bread - 2.50.

...It's a long way to Tipperary? IF Tipperary's still there & goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square? Is Brenda still there...?

..."I am not in Love..." (Joan Armatrading song)..."but I'm open to persuasion?"/ "BEEF=POT-PIES!" ( Après Duran-Duran song, GIRLS-on-Film!), "I gotta get sum: Beef Pot Pies!"

...YUP! -DADDY WOULDN'T buy me a BOW-WOW, and as FOR that needy CAT, I'd rather have a BAT but WOTS I want's is a Bow-wow-wow!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (Quite sober & drug-free incidentally.)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "To kill a Mocking-BROAD!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "To kill a Mocking-Broad!"

...TO KILL A MOCKING-BROAD, some KAREN; most, these days, recently changing their names to Eloise, Marie-Claude, Peggy-Sue or Cleopatra! (CUCKOO! - CUCKOO!) 

...It CAN be a tough Gig in a WOKED Town, now "gone respectable!" -The WHORES of yore, now on the Town Council, their COUGAR retro position got U/ WE - happy-go-lucky/ chain-smoking-Whisky galore-DUDES! (It's a CAT-FIGHT!) These Mocking-Broads got U in their frigid spinster sights!

...There's little to be said for these soon-to-be Old Crones, Islamic Imans/Bible thumping Baptists who, in their Youth, never got enough? And what's to SEE with a JHIJAB BRIDE who never exposed their legs? (POLICE LINE: "Nothing to see here folks." (Bride-burning.) "Keep walking! ..." Well sever her Clitoris, if she survives?"

...To kill a Mocking-Broad (Some KAREN!) out on her neighborhood Patrol; under duress with a compendium of "Issues": A Mind in a World - God's given Oyster! - consumed without a Clue.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "PISTOL PACKING MOMMA!"

 OUr Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Pistol Packing Momma!"

...I WASN'T SURE (REAL-WHISKY SURE!) ...how could I be? But dat Pistol bitch with the Colt.45, aimed right at ME? And, (pause) U know I had my ashtray-doubts like an un-paid Bar-tab, my half-hearted SOUL gave out some half-assed -I'm gonna faint-SHOUTS, I'm fainting, better than wailing "I'm a PATRIOT!" -the last refuge of a Scoundrel (Doctor Samuel Johnson.).

BURRT...That Pistol Packing MAMMA stole my HEART twix BRUNCH & SUPPER, Croutons in Salad were involved/French dressing/Romantically? A recipe for gastronomic disaster perhaps; it's un=proven but many a heart has been destroyed "avec" "LE BUFFET!" French Film dudes, Goddard, Chabrol, Truffaut actually make MOVIES bout this stuff!!! (They R mostly in B/W.)

And, universally agreed only FAILS (Freudian slip) only FOOLS fall in love but when U R looking down the MUZZLE (She put the Colt.45 in her left TIT pocket) whipped out an UZI U bet-cha-heart strings pounding; U'd better know what's-WHAT? I wasn't too sure (How could I be?) Surely this RACHEL wasn't gonna slay a DAVID? My appointment with GOLLIATH...future boogaloo.

There ain't "nuttin" sweeter than wine or the sadness U must absorb when your baby cries? There ain't no ALAMO, no last chance Casino or Saloon where we bury our Loves or hole our regrets, compact, in the saddlebags, horse-riding, the DEVIL won't find me, from Babylon to Samara! (HAFIZ!!!) It ALL comes back to haunt U or comes out in the Wash?

There ain't no ZEPHYR to cleanse your miscalculations, those embryonic, altruistic prods: QUO VADIS, God to Saint Whoosits: "Which WAY!?" -responding, "Manh, I got NO G.P.S.! " (No wonder he got crucified, upside down?) & all the LOVES, somehow, the Devil in Dixie or the songs U left behind? The Blues in everyone's ticket pocket, no Gold can ever compensate.

There ain't "nuttin" sweeter than a Sampan cruise all the way - in a matchbox - from faraway CATHAY (China). There's "nuttin" like a resurrection, a regret in your mind; that maelstrom, that whirlpool which leaves your Soul, cleansed/behind. And as for that PISTOL PACKING MOMMA? I guess she got fagged out, moved on to better times. People just, thank God...just do. (I'd loaded her "firepower" with blanks. S'why, whilst -ahah! "Sweating bullets" I still look good in Facebook "Selfies!"...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.