Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix, Pass the Tabasco
Bitchin Night, bastardo Day, nobody gonna convince me it was ANY other way. And it didn't seem right, didn't strike me as Wrong, wasn't a speech, poem or song, didn't come with a smile, grin, smirk or denial, it wasn't positive, a NO/NO, a maybe, possibly, untoward, defiant, malign, incumbent, a go/getter, a forget me knot, a piece of wedding cake under an old maids pillow or that carrot and stick, the promise of Water, that fabled, illusive Well, just over the mountain...
I had NO illusions, bad OR good dreams, fantasies gilded with cunning, nor Doe eyed innocence, not a Justice system in sight. An Order of somebody Else's RIBS, Adams, maybe and like so many before me I said... Pass the Tobasco.
c2018,davedelacroix, Café Florio, Sciacca, Sicily.
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