Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/ "Mostly Dead."

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/ "Mostly Dead."


Mostly dead people. Mostly dead loves, passions, fashions, clothes, now rags, girls shoes in a landfill, their owners hearts, imprisoned in an Old Folks Home in Kansas State, faraway from Los Angeles where they "Butterflied", or N.Y.C. where, and when  they painted their tits on canvas for Andy Warhol or Salvador Dali and wouldn't suck YOUR dick for ALL the whisky in Ireland?... And here they sit? Little ol' Ladies: Yesterday's Groupies! The one's U couldn't LAY; came, originally, from a small USA town, now rebound, seething, thru their mascara and expensive dentures: gleaning, twinkled, with EYES that sing of CBGB's, Max's Kanasas City, Cafe WHA?, and UP-town from dancing with Charlie Parker, Kid Coltraine, FURRRRlLONIUS Monk, a Negro Jesuit.  Twinkle, twinkle, ebony and Ivory notes, still resounding... "Yellow Mongoose!", now,  in the Old Folks Home?

I was hitch-hiking, with my guitar, thru low south East Kansas, just out of Springfield, Missouri. Regardless. The Owner of this Old folks Settlement gave me a ride in his Pontiac and  a place to "crash". I met the Senior Nurses/cum Doctors who had to administer to these latter day "belle de jours" (some physio-therapy horror stories!), saluted THEM, but still Saluted  the 80 or so ol'Gals who ONCE ruled Society's  fair, these Ladies,  a PANORAMA, wigs, pastiche,  of a bygone Age? .... And the Papparazzi? Not there. The Papparazzi, nowhere in sight... And "I",  a Kid, passing "thru" with a Guitar, a song, to throng, to resonate their past majestic delight? So just WHO, in the blink of an eye, carves yesterdays'-tomorrow, or can spread-eagle an infinity - span TIME! -  for those we should love?-their Egyptian eyes, still yearning, nevertheless, targeted my SOUL.



c2017/davedelacroix/LORD BORGO, Sciacca/Sicily.