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

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

...PAPPA GOT A BRAND-NEW razor. Pappa got a brand-new GIG. But the tufts of his greying beard, last seen, he gotta a SMILE just like in his YOUTH.

Pappa got a brand-new BAG, goes by the name of "BANJO!". He plays it night & day. Even the neighbors R complaining! My younger siblings, like "Mummers" (silent actors) in a play? Wondring-bout their tomorrow! Destiny's illusive face?

Pappa got a new brown bag. Pappa got a new LIFE! (he) Buzzed off to Chicago, became a hipster MUSIC-MAN, & we never got wind of him since, till - in the PRESS - he had a hit song: "Lucille!" (My mother's name...)

Pappa got a brand-new Razor. Pappa got a brand-new GIG; where-as I now see my aging Momma, slaving in our local South Arkansas brick laundry building, fading, like our clothes & rags she washes daily, day by day to keep on having to think.

I hear it's the SAME via the town's Library-public Internet service IN ENGLAND, Europe, faraway? A family abandoned for some fickle "Rock & Roll" fame? A Man with a plan, a Guitar, THUNDERBIRD auto and a pocket comb?

But "in ONUS" just who stays behind? Who to stand, Sons & Daughters, by their planted seed? Not to mention who KEEPS your town, your Village-green; who sweeps the Cities SEWERS! - a Song of sacrifice? - Certainly not the Man who wrote "Lucille!".

Pappa got a brand-new Razor. Pappa got a brand-new Bag. Pappa got everything he needs except the Kids he left behind & a noble LADY, thrown into No-Man's Land, yet a haunting Conscience; but what good is THAT for a sweet Gal named "Lucille."

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix; "The Ancient Mariner."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Ancient Mariner,"

...MAYBE IT WAS YOUTH'S "Agusto!" (passion)? Maybe it was our D.N.A. that launched us into this WILD WORLD, but, latter days, "Davy Jones Locker" a-chained to our backs? I don't much talk to Strangers anymore.

And maybe it's the ZODIAC, solar planets out of sync? An Astrolabe/Navigation miscalculation, too much Rum! But, probably, in MY case, failed love affairs in Port-O-Prince or Bristol fashion: S-why I don't much talk to Strangers anymore. (Especially women from Swansea!)

ONCE! A Brother above all brothers! I was valiant & sailed the seven seas. But now marooned on the lee shore in some foreign land where Strangers I don't heart-felt, welcome. What mortal castaway can absorb distance eternal? Robinson Crueso?

Like Ulysses at the end of Days; just who knows: TIME! That God of Gods! Implacable! Cares NOT for who or what was. And as for Strangers, I, being marooned, no longer hang out in portside bars & taverns. Bordellos, a distant memory. But I miss the chorus of a "Sea Shanty!"

...Now? My fingernails seem always dirty. I don't now shave but once a week. Every time I - these futuristic days - read a sincere Internet Post I crack up in laughter & wish U all calm seas?

And water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink/ ocean-current chased by metaphors: "Think!", "Gone down the SINK!" Or "the DEVIL'S DRAM/last whisky in the barrel!" A whirlpool of insight: John Donne/Poet: to search/advance an honest mind not to CAP with The Bard's, To BE or not to Be? - That Sea of Seas.

...I gotta Song IF THERE IS a Song. It takes a lifetime, rudderless, to know what IS COOL or what is downright wrong...Less said, yet without melancholy, I don't much talk to Strangers, my old Shipmates, anymore... This affidavit, signed by my own hand, who never ever received "the Black Spot", DAVY, an ancient mariner.

c.2026.Dave Delacroix.

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

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

...I PAINTED - WATERCOLOURS - MY SHADOW, my silhouette, an optical imago on the turquoise/blued bed of my swimming pool, octagonal sunlight reflections & that my subterranean EYES, wide open, I saw there... two people, the previous evening, a suicide pact/the Pool Guy, late for his pool cleaning Gig & I (my morning swim) dove in anyway, not being of a superstitious or nervous disposition. ...Now the DEAD have been removed. COPS, Ambulances, flashing light stuff. I never live, co-habit or SWIM with Corpses; leastways in my own Swimming Pool? Would YOU? -No need to respond.

Too little, too late, a 'la that DAZZLE, an epiphany to those close at hand? My other Chateaux-Pelican Guest Villa guests scattered like Baptists at a non-alcoholic wake, those of ISLAMIC faith, tired of bouncing their forehead - 5 times a day/pointing to MECCA - wherever the frick THAT is! -on the Villa's gravel forecourt did the same thing"? I HAVE heard some Hotel horror stories, B&B nightmares but TWO STIFFS in the swimming pool - Guinness record? - gotta award a blue ribbon, YA THINK?

...Like a WHISTLER in the wind, a Song now sung, now gone with the wind & every morning U brush your teeth and yes, U need to shave.

I painted my shadow, my silhouette, an optical imago on the turquoise/blued bed of my swimming pool; octagonal-sunlight reflections dance before my eyes as I saw before me, EYES WIDE OPEN, I saw my own self there!

I still paint in Watercolors & whistle whilst I work. But close friends have observed my paintings' have a tint of grey.

c.2o26, Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Queen of Belize!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Queen of Belize."

...WHEN YOUR DAY IS DONE, when your GLORY DAYS have disappeared, do NOT despair. WITHIN your Treasure of memories, joys & sorrows, that suitcase of experience which U launched - as we sometimes do - like a message in a bottle - launched into the bay of Corozal?

When your Day is done, your ovalis, depleted, menopause, your beauty fading, suitors no longer E-Mail/Facebook messages dried up? Your Grand Children dragging your skirts to the floor but that SAMBA in your Soul, never gonna let U go? (And the Kids R OK!)

When your Holly-weird sense of fashion boardwalk fame IS OVER, do U fade or DO U FLAME into that majestic Lady whose ROBES U were destined to wear... New Shades, new shimmy-shammy dress/I can still TANGO with the best? "WATCH-ME!!!"

When they DAY is done, yet sometimes NIGHT, a comfort zone, suggests, my Lady, U might have won! As for TEARS; no need. A Life. Not always a breeze. A salute...for the Queen of Belize.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. /Decication/cognoscenti/not necessary.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The DA-VINCI CODE DECIPHERED!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The DA VINCI CODE DECIPHERED!"

...IT'S NOT ALL BAD BEING the Town Drunk though one DOES get to be a tad infamous for raising a few eyebrows especially amongst the communities, church-going Spinsters?

It's not ALL bad yet occasionally getting "pilloried" in the village-green "Stocks", getting pelted with rotten fruit & Veg, by respected citizens-"Les Mistons!", drug dealing kids in need of a de-tox reality spell to unleash their inner (lactating?) confusion?

It's not ALL bad being the Town Drunk. For One, I have open access to the keys of my own "drunk tank" jailhouse Cell (Andy Griffith's show), no reservation required! -where I can sleep-off the Nights "load" & not get yelled at by "she who must be obeyed" at HOME, quietly a-waiting like a Black Widow Spider, and in her previous Life (Reincarnation?) U gotta wonder? God know why I married her or she, ME!

It's not ALL bad, overqualified, Town Drunk specifications - YES; I just checked IN to see what condition my condition was IN? And? Yes! AND! -I once educated the locals how to effortlessly grind GRAIN. "Use Mommy Nature!" I said, holding my wet thumb into the breeze, the WIND: "It's called a Windmill!" I might have added, "Get cracking!"? -THAT didn't go down well...

...My designs for a helicopter, Submarines, Satellites, and especially a HOT AIR BALOON (Zeppelins), lord KNOWS, folks round here R full of it? Anyhow, my ideas were cursory considered, judged quite ridiculous & deemed insane/I was un-employable, so I graduated to the high office of Town Drunk: Where U now find me, painting landscapes, writing poetry, TWIX LIBATIONS thus I execute my life. "O sole mio?" not a bit of it. Mostly, with wine, I have a good time!

As for the future, when I'm dead & assuredly GONE? I hope someone will say a prayer, a Kaddish for me? A legacy OF existence. The Town Drunk who walked amongst Ye & attempted to discover Mommy-Nature's divinity; a purpose for ALL, above the treadmill of your chosen indenture or the swings & arrows of outrageous fortune!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Papillion!" (Après Dylan Thomas.)

...DO NOT GO BENTLEY into dat ROLLS-ROYCE night! The Old Boy Club/Class system will not invite U into their "high-hat" cannibalism, Conservative Grandees; baby, U don't have a chance a 'la Thomas Hardy's "Jude the Obscure".

Do not go DAIMLER though U rage, RAGE against a tempest of social disadvantage or write what U SCREAM! Better U fire up an old Spitfire/M.G. Afterall, your Gal is happy, hair blowing in the wind in the passenger seat, in love; what more could U need?

Do not go Bently into that Rolls-Royce night; elegant cufflinks, Tie pins, a diamond - just the one - earring? Worth nothing when U R a corpse. And don't advertise, Crematoria-personnel/grave robbers abound!

...I saw, actually, in my travels, many times a Gal. White dress. Fancy free. Faint heart never won fair maiden. But I never in fact met her, situ., on crowded trains, some German "fuss ganger zone" whilst busking/poor boy, strumming my guitar? I never busied up to her, happy, just to be a witness of her gay delight. Needless to say, to this day SHE still Butterflies, an eternal IMAGIO in my mind.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Gatsby's afternoon."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Great Gatsby's afternoon."

...REGARDING HOUSE GUEST KAREN: "I'm offended by your Political Views, in addition, your body odor, post swimming pool, U stink of chlorine & U R NOT wearing Chanel No. Whoosits. It's insufferable!!!" (This was prior to GATSBY getting SHOT! -as per F. Scot-Fitzgerald's novel, semi portrayed in David Hockney's painting: A BIGGER SPLASH!))

(Back to House Guest KAREN:) "I'm offended by your lack of acknowledgment of my frail dynamic, my wishes & whims! Don't U understand what I'm going thru!? MEIN GOTT! I COULD be ovulating!?"

(She goes on:) "I'm also SERIOUSLY offended by..." this is followed by a TOME of listed complaints as the Great Gatsby, prior to being assassinated, doing his best to slouch by the swimming pool on a tropical, Saturday night, is - thank God/ calls herself TALLULAH, a "FLAPPER-going on COUGAR", is when she leaves.

(Wotchagonna-DO?) House guests R always welcome/old saying: After a few days, the place smells like fish. And the sweetest moment, hopefully, good humoredly, is WHEN they leave:

 A day in the Life of the Great Gatsby before some lunatic took his life. Or so the alternative story goes! Gotta figure it was an absorbent, busy day? Pity how it played out... like a shadow in the Sun...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.