Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Inspector.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... The Inspector.




The Inspector.... Did  U SEE the white woman in her gown disappearing down the hall...
I woz holding on to Ferdinand.
Who-s F.
My Teddy.
Were YOU witness to...
NO. I am the Butler!
But aren-t U estranged from Madame Lestrange...
We are separated by 3 cousins.
The blood stained kn ife in your hand..
I was preparing Chicken-livers.
Can Monsieur le Count, perhaps,
enlighten US to the Situ...
M.le C. never arises until Noon.
The Countessa..
Till Happy hour!...5 till 7!
So there were NO witnesses!
Non Monsieur!
But the CHAMBER MAID,
covered in blood...
Menstruation, perhaps..
And YOU, Gaston,
your finger prints upon the KNIFE!
A forensic-over-sight, Inspector.
The Count E Countessa,
despite their long time desire
to DIE in each others arms
at the pinnacle of their Love...WE
servants at the Chateaux
faithfully serve.
Very well, Monsieur le Butler,
as everything seems to be in order
I will neglect to make
an Official report.




c2019, davedelacroix, market Inn, truro, Cornwall, U.K.
\

Our Man in Euope, dave delacroix... A Tale of Love.

Our Man in Europe, davedelacroix… A Tale of Love.




AT THE END, SOME end of the Day when We, tired, said ADIEU!...like lost Loves.


At some END  of the day when, uncannily, we USURP all that we have, knowing, in a SMILE, a parting-cheek kiss..


AT some end of the day, time to come, LAIN in separate death chambers, Unknowing, decaying, skeleton on skeleton and a tale of Love that WE had found.




c2019. davedelacroix, truro. u.k.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... The TOMATOES.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... The Tomatoes.




dedicato. George Simenon.




MY INTENTION WAS TO END it all for some reason. My apartment by the Bois du Boulogne now dosent  have have a Toaster in the kitchen. FRANCINE, who I killed, she-s soaking in the bath tub far from her favourite divan, blood bubbles, she quite never understood. The Toaster. Electric bath tub. ...Never mind.
BRUNSWICK HAM slices!
COLMANS of Norwich, mustard.
A brogue of butter!
Wheat toasted-sliced bread!
WHERE WAS I!!! Then I remembered...\\as the gendarmeeri sirens, the TOMATOES,, sliced, bursting, put them ON TOP!
Do U think they-ll Guillotine me in  England or just HANG ME!...
U.K. Tomatoes. I hear they are very good!






c.2019. mannings hotel. truro, cornwall, u.k.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....TRURO!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....TRURO!


dedicato. Tracey Williams.




EVERYBODY-S GOT an AXE to grind. EVERYBODY-S ON Cocaine! Everybody-s got a BREXIT-Brain. Or lathered in Chateau Neuf du Pape!
Everybody!!!
Everybody-s got an OLD Virginity, the kind U lose 20 times a day! Everybody THINKS they got it made, in Truro. I smile and wonder.
Everybody thinks he-s DAPPER-DAN or mini-skirt, THIGHS-a Hubba-Hubba!
Whilst nobody knows what nobody knows... that Secret... of Truro.


c2019, davedelacroix, barley sheaf pub, truro, cornwall, u.k.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Loneliest Guy in Town.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... Loneliest Guy in Town.


dedicato. Leon Watkins.




...A Song. Like Ain't Misbehavin…




MAYBE SHE-LL CALL me,
Call-collect!
Maybe she-ll WEAR
that red dress, next!
Maybe she-ll drop dat SMIRK,
dat killer-smile
for the loneliest Dude,
this side of downtown.


Maybe she-ll pick a WINNER
some Cat don-t skin-her,
satin dress, stockings
up to her CHIN,
who I-ve adored,
a Queen Astarte WHORE
loved by the loneliest Kid U know.


Your Taxi ride beats a REFUGEE
every time the meter stings!
An helter-skelter, there-s no god=damn shelter,
sometimes LOVE cold wind blows!


CAN U BELIEVE IT
a cafe neon, late nite, like my heart
flashes, staccato ON and OFF,
can-t kill that LONELY,
if she would only,
for the loneliest guy in town...




c2019, davedelacroix, white hart pub, truro, cornwall, u.k.

Our Man in Europe,dave delacroix.... KISSED.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... KISSED.






IT-S NOT ALWAYS dangerous, not even righteous, no-infamous, sometimes-outrageous, I dunno, babee, but, sometimes, it-s just about U!
IT-S not ALWAYS Epicure, Champignon, champagne or BAROLO, no Chianti Supreme, no Trebante, all the THINGS like HANNIBAL the  ROMAN Conqueror, we have seen.
IT-S NOT always dangerous that ONCE, like Marco-Antonius and Queen of Egypt, Cleopatra...they once kissed!....and left the serpent of History, un-coiled, to hiss.




c2019,davedelacroix. Edinburgh, Scotland. Wearing a KILT!!!

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...KICK IT!!!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....KICK IT!!!




Kick it!
Don-t mix it!
Don-t TRICK it!
Don-t fool around...


WITCH it!
Go Bitch it!
Kiss it!
Like what U found!....


ZAP it!
Don-t Clap it!
Whack it!
Make it Sound!


DO it!
Use it!
Spleen and THROAT!
Wail! Wail! Wail!


...what U have found.




c2019, davedelacroix, truro, cornwall, u.k.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Blue!

Our Man in Europe, dave delaroix….The Blue.


dediacto. William Houston.




DON-T expect, don-t expect an open door. Don-t expect, kisses, love and peace. Go figure! What DEY gonna DO wiv all DEM curtains, eyebrows, attitudes, aggressive frick-U connects!


And what DEY gonna do with the Blue, distilled-crystal, twix fingers of inerrant Vice, gripe and snotty nose politic, London Finance, N.Y.C. or dream L.A.


DON-T expect dat KISS, dat Wish, EXPECTING U-diss side of a nightmare, an illusion-drug-unction or fornication on a Summer-s day, so sweet...as it seems...of Bloody Mary-s mornings and Gimlet afternoons.


c2019, davedelacroix. Truro, UK. Fixin on gittin new Passport.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, WHY ME...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix, WHY ME...


dedicato. Gerry Franks. Composer of, Metro Girls.




WHY FRICKIN ME! Perche Mio, por quoi, ICH BIN ...Hitler-s ORDNUNG! Why Me, Cheri, a Canzone, a Chanson, an EXCUSE, a DELIVERANCE, a protestation of LOVE that can embrace a Fontainbleu hello, or an Auschwitz Goodbye.


WHY ME, here, NOW, in HISTORY. New tech-modern...Ha-Ha!!!..Modern gizsmoes. New ways of subservience, NEW WAYS of a NON-PAPER TRAIL gone computerized Humanity-extermination. Arbeit Mach Frei...


WHY o Sole Mio. Where is my SONG...A Password, a CODEX, a computer click, a LIFE has gone..




c2019,davedelacroix,ourmanineurope,august,Uk,2019

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...SKEE-WIFF!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Skee-Wiff!




NOBODY COULD-A said JEST why Nobody dressed, UP or DOWN, nobody out front, marching...in a Limousine. Nobody SAID your dress caught my EYE or the line of my Fedora which maybe caught your eye. Nobody said, PASTICHE 41, nobody glanced when we were One. The ONE. Everybody said we looked SIAMESE, sunglasses, gone South to the Riviera, skee-wiff, to find our Souls.....fill in the blanks....like People do.


c2019, davedelacroix, Cap Ferat. Some place in France.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...... Stockings...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... Stockings!




….No NEED to take them off. The Concierge, downstairs, arguing with his Wife. KIDS outside, yelling-playground, old men, FRENCH, playing Boules. And a midi-apres, afternoon, indiscretion, italiano-permisso, where I can strangle YOU or YOU can strangle ME...wipe the lipstick OFF my mouth. And Leather jacket atop turquoise Negligee, Jockey shorts, what a PAIR...we-d make cruising on the Bois de Boulogne, so piquant, both stockinged to an horizon, mon cheri. Ou son les neige, dantan, that SEX we craved  for when we first met!...




c2019,davedelacroix, Cornwall, U.K.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....AFTER the Fact.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... AFTER da FAX!




dedicato. Sylvia in Freiburg, Germany. Always in mein hertz.




After the FAT!
The Olive Oil.
The shimmer-emotion
the night, the day,
2 Ecstasy, 19 years old
looking for Salvation!


After the ZAP!
That cold kiss of MISERY,
the Knight, with lance
goes, sometimes,
to a knowing Rounceville…


After the FACT
that SLAP=that
awakening, a Piccolo,
a SONG, maybe a Tune
leave Victor a Victim
in All his desires.


After the YAK
he disrobes, suit, trousers,
tie, shirt, Song, alone
and dies in your embrace..




c2019, davedelacroix, truro, cornwall, u.k., the ENDS of the Earth.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....AMI n-CLHOE

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....AMY n CLHOE.




dedicato. Antonio Segreto.




Amy and Clhoe, both Chauffeurs for the Truro-Cornwall-U.K. a2b taxi Service. Both CORNWALL Gals who shepherd your Midnight transport, From BAR to CASA, late night desperation, sometimes, on a STANK-sweltering-cold-rain dog, U.K.-pissin-down SITU, who carry my marked bottles and-or PUT some glisten in my Crown, skee-wiff, mah head and drive me...5 BUCKS!!!...home.


Empty Streets...


The car pulls into the gravel driveway. Tregolls House. A re-converted Victorian Private Girls School. We arrive. ...Invitations, as the Sun comes UP, for Bloody Mary-s...are refused. Like I sad smile, a soliloquy. Amy and Chloe, 2 groovy kids I am, in time, I guess, never ever to know. Or yak, good-times... to THEM... the Legends I have known.


I live on a HILL, reason for Taxi.  Shopping bags delivered. Tutte bene! Amy and Clhoe ignite the Taxi. Hugs to Dave. Tip on TITS, tyre on gravel. Busta move! Combustion! Resolution, AVANTE!...but only so far as it goes, sweet ladies. Buonna fortuna. Amy...and Chloe. U took me HOME but just where did I go...




c2019,davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Panhandler.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... The Panhandler.




WHAT CAN U do for U. What can U do for ME, in this bright world, the land and the sea. What can U DO for U. Got any change, a LIMP, white cane, a disability that Fortune can change.
What can U do for YOU, what can U-IS your style... that fails to Usurp my individuality. What can I do for ME, but say! No thanks. What can U do for YOU...and live well.


c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... NO JUSTICE!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... NO Justice!


dedicato… carole aniello, marquess, on her 75th birthday.


There-s NO Justice in da Morning, no Justice-afternoon, no Justice-Happy-Hour, a Virgin unda da Moon. There-s no Justice, SOIREE! No Justice, Penis-servitude, no Justice either-way, it-s how we COME, the foreskin of our World, no Justice, just ejaculation!!!
….CLOWN-mirror SMILE, reflects that armpit Justice, your INNER-sense beguiles....


NO JUSTICE in da Morning, no Justice in your YEARNING, no Justice in your Soul. No Justice in your INNER, nor outward, 1, 2, 3! And BELIEVE ME...No Justice when YOU say HI!...to Me.
….Clown, Mirror Smile. We paint each others faces...to beguile.


There-s NO JUSTICE, nor passion, no Inter-net Compassion less U can SQUEEZE your ORGASM into a 20 second Smile. A GRIMM fairy-tale convoluted that, like Alice THROUGH the Looking Glass....that for U and Me....never goes OUT of style.




c.2019, august. truro, cornwall, u.k., davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... HOT WINGS!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... HOT WINGS.




dedicato. C.M.A. Happy B-Day!




Hot Wings, Flagstaff, ARIZONA, Ribbs -BBQ Sauce. Sitting with an Afro-American Gal -bout to head out to Paris-France. HOT WINGS, School Class outta Des-Moines-Iowa, a TWA 800 departing JFK... put them in an early grave.
HOT WINGS, songs, dead and gone and ALL the KUM-BYE-YA that went wrong, this side of the USA, some kind of Fiscal paradise...
Hot Wings, U and Me, by the grace of God we prevail, maybe meant to BE. HOT WINGS, babe, UN-forseen….No use counting our coffee spoons.


c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...DEATH SONG of a Sunday Roast.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... Death Song of a Sunday Roast.




DEF CANZONE of a Sunday Roast, death of something traditional that I THOUGHT gone wrong twix da buzz and da BEES, wrapped around CULTURE, a May-pole....Whotchagonna-do do wive Mio!
Death Song, a Dirge=boogie! HOW do I twist your Inner sinew, your vagina, make it sting like your Paramour or resonate that ZAZA!
Death song in Minute. A Debussey, a GOGOL script, a SOLO, a damp room, NYC or Dead-Paris, either way, can U love ME, can U love me...or die in my arms.


c2019,davedelacroix....house of shores, u.k.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... KILLERS!

Our Man in ….Europe, dave Delacroix....KILLERS!!!


dedicato. Senore JUAN, my neighbor. From Spain.






Sweet-kiss, kid fell over the balcony, 60 stories. SPLAT. Wasn-t even wearing Designers. Who called this IN, we ain-t Homicide this side of Fashion Ave. Nuttin=Central Park, Columbus Circle,
do we call FINKS, Spanish-Harlem or leave it to da Spade=Fire brigade.


Fast FWD to the U.K.....


Sweet KID, no BODY, no place, no EYE-contact, no GIG, no FACE, just a Ghoul in your sight, arms, legs, gangling, no PASSPORT, no VISA, from over the Other side.


Sweet BLISS, this side of Brexit, BORDER-MEN arrest U with their perpetuity, their righteous Adolf Hitler, creased trousers, polished, parade-ground shoes...Attitudes to fill a Brewery!


Sweet LOVE, a sinew in your smile. Sweet GIFT, sometimes lost. I do not know how far I have to go. But for THIS, like a refugee, I-ll vote WITH my feet....and  I will walk the next 1,000 miles.




c2019, dave Delacroix. In England and HATING it. Yo!