Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... No Caviar for the Gendarme.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... No Caviar for the Gendarme.




I told the KIDS, no Caviar, leave the Champas at the Bar, the Cafe Noir, for later. I said to Maitre Defarge, my dislocated Soul, no worries, We would talk later. I whispered Blue to Mademosoiselle, the only words that would wrap around her Soul. I cursed and spat a sweet Pont Neuf memory which is when I knew I was in Love.
I walked a 1,000 boulevards and I smoke TOO many cigarettes, drinking Calvodos like a Gendarme in the rain. The rain, the storm, my uniform, withering at my sleeve, my gloves,
I blew my whistle, I caught the bad Guys, got a shoulder-wound, I cannot disguise, and wounded, I raised my hat when the President passed by in the fog.
I-m black and white, an old film-noir, younger Cops taking my place, I hear the Accordian-Maigret but I stay. Je Suis Gendarme.




c2019, dave delacroix.