Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Silver Snows.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Silver Snows.


dedicato. Jean Debats.


Bolshoi at Midnight, Ballet Russe in the afternoon, Pasternak, ever moderate, only the GOOD Writer gets shot or ignored. And a rendezvous in Paris or at the Nevsky-Prospect, either place, your prospects are limited as in the USA or the GREAT British-thingy, that Cricket-assumption-divinty of FAIR PLAY, the biggest CON since the Spannish Inquisition, maybe 2020 they DO Monty Python and torture U with the COMFY CHAIR, but the populous Jury is still OUT on this Gig, traced by street cameras, your PHONE, your INNER LAPTOP where swearty Goverment boys can watch U making a scene with a Virtual magazine or your Fascist neighbour jumps at a GUN! And there-s YOU getting arm wrestled to the Drunk Tank for popping a cork in your OWN pad with the Gal who sits on your sofa, panty-free... Does this happen a lot to U!... Call my Lawyer....Dont RESIST Punk!...Conversation, like thru U and ME, do we WEEP, I got the VIRUS, or cry Mercy-Mercy-ME!...Would u...FASCIST!...care to OVER-REACH Mr Policeman-please, lights flashing, Cop Radios crackling... 200 years ago, deported-exiled to AUSTRALIA, yet now even THOSE bastards have got a Kangaroo-sensibility! Downright Marsupial! OH! WOE is me! Where does my character, my INDIVIDUALITY, avast my SPIRIT...to the Guillotine, perhaps, where does it end! And a Bolshoi at Midnight, a Ballet-Russe in the afternoon, not faded but CRUSHED in the madding crowd!  Oh where, oh where FAT MARGOT, mon cheri, oh where, oh where les neige dantan, that gal I loved and the Silver snows of yesteryear...for my Soul come back to Me.


c.2020. davedelacroix, Tregolls House,, Truro, Cornwall, England.