Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Apres-midi de un Poet....POET-s Afternoon.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... Apres-midi de un Poet... Poet-s Afternoon!


dedicato. Flavio.




The afternoon of the POET was mostly spent, spent MOSTLY in worry, VINO and buoyed with a capacity for MISS-understandings that would SINK a Moby-Dick!
Quite In-conceivable in a Bank Clerk or Shop Assistant UNLESS either one had recently KILLED their Spouse or entered into a scheme of BLACKMAIL entailing a lengthy GUILT-affair, , immoral too, a Double Indemnity-Ethicality, mostly for which, perpetrators are UN-prepared and ALL their Tomorrows...piccolini-Shakespeare...are dogged-shadowed by some MAIGRET or COLUMBO who, PIPE or CIGAR, could easily EEK a quick Murder Confession if ONLY they-d quit SMOKING during Interrogations! Serve up a Frappacino, maybe. Back-rub.
Frickin PEANUTS!
Un-like the POET...remember HIM!...in an Afternoon, en-raptured by that INNER-spectre of Love-s intended Doom! Under a Damoclesian Sword, drunk on Vin Rouge, YELLIN...before he got kicked out of the Café....ALLEZ FRANCE! Soccer-sportif-thingy. Yo! Something like that, apres-midi...


c2019, dave Delacroix. café porta Palermo, Sciacca-sicily. service-compris.