Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... EVERYBODY TRY to be Cool...George Floyd.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Everybody Try to be Cool...George Floyd.


Everybody TRYIN, everybody sighing, some CRYING, some-DOWNRIGHT MURDERED  and when U told, keep on Tryin, what-s the Use! How do you CLEANSE this Social Toilet Bowl and, to Re-use, what IS the Protocol! Do U Flush or do U Stink!...There-s Paper on the Side and THERE-IN lies the lack of Faith! A stinking door-s Cubicle left swinging! Purveyor of Forged Currency, George Floyd, FATALLY arrested....Who pays the Ferryman!

Freedom of Speech, Folks. I-m not lookin to debate this!


c.2020, May. davedelacroix, ourmanineurope.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Cummings-Gate!


CUMMINGS-GATE! We want to Dance around U
Cummings-Gate, when the BULL got OUT
but the COWS had to Stay Home!
CUMMINGS GATE, my Suit is at the Cleaners,
BIC RAZOR, a gotta 1-2-3 to get Me
out and be to Clean, and
nobody KNOWS my Paternal pain!
A bee-bop-a-loop-A!
CUMMINGS GATE. I-m at the Funerals
who is it MATE, guess its
EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!!!

c.2020, davedelacroix. La Guillotine!...Ladies...Let the Knitting Commence!

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Saturday Night and Friday Morning.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Saturday Night and Friday Morning.

...AS for any Truth U find...in dat bottomless well, as for any Wisdom U find, if U can get it, Get it and Go South, if U can get It , Get it, which way to the haberdashery, the saleswoman looks like a Transgender who just won the Lottery. Aint U a TAD suspicion, strumming your Ukele!
As for the UNcouth, BARF or order General Tsao. Long Island SUSHI, jeeze, dat-s U, captured on the Tarot Card!
I was a-wondrin when U-d call me. Always between Saturday Night and Friday Morning.

c.davedelacroix, may-moth, 2020.

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

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


THE ALCHEMIST, thee ETERNAL WIZARD-DUDE, timeless-ABIDES since Soloman, Petrified Testaments, Exiles, a WHISPER on the wind that turns base metals into GOLD, or that illusive Liqueur of Immortality and NOW available on aisle 3 of your local Supermarket, do we frantically masturbate, gather at the Evangelist-Baptist-Tabernacle of J.C. or SCREAM!... Good Choir there I hear.

THE ALCHEMIST, that Hoodie-Medaevilist dude got a SPELL..Whoosh-whoosh! A Spell for THAT,
another for THIS, a fizzle. LORD-s Word! Feel it when U donate a $100 bill! And HOW LONG, remonstrates the Preacher, his dispair, yet cudgelled Genenetic Science and now Nowhere, a SINNER, a JUNKIE, now SEEN the Light, a long journey, a Stranger, Riches, increased frantic masturbation, certainly no Love! Gather Unto Me!!!

The ALCHEMIST squirrels around his Eternal laboratory, tutting at chemicals smelling like God-s death. Psychology, Economics, POLITICS, ALL are within his obscure-vacuumess realm...and there-s YOU believing Gold from base metals, Water into Wine, PEACE from War or that the Devil thwarted Mankind ....which conjoins with your Soul-s inner succubus. The one to whom, abed, you say Goodnight.


c.2020, may 24, davedelacroix, ourmanineurope.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.. No.10 Downing St. LIMBO.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... No.10 Downing St. LIMBO.

B.J.  Wass-up!
Hancockle... Tired suckin DICK!
B.J. Hold dat thought. Donald on the Other line.
B.J. Wass Up!
Pretty Patel... How do I continue to keep the Press at bay, AGREEING with them
that EVERYTHING is a Good Idea!...
B.J. Suck em Off!
B>J> Wass-Up! I-m tryin loose mah Jam-Jams!
Reese-Moog...After LAST night, P.M., I got a sweat on M-self! I wouldnt have Thought! U were
Soooo Cuddly...Your HAIR, my Prince!
B.J.... WassUp. Keep it SHORT!
Cummings, here!... Ignore the Tabloids. I-m in Ibizia!


c.2020. our man in europe, dave delacroix, U.K. Citizen. 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Who Pays the Ferryman...

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Who Pays the Ferryman...


dedicato. Tourists.


Bachannalia without End. A Song of Songs. Feasting. That UN-ending Kiss. Who pays the Ferryman...Here in this Brothel where we ply our Trade.

WHO, if I cried out would run me down in his 54-Speedster, what Red-Flag Starting-Gal would, sensing DANGER,
 come in her Knickers-Here, in this Bordello where we ply our Trade! Step right UP!

Bachannalia without End, eternal THROMBOSIS, do U DO ME or do I DO U! Here!..in this Brothel, presently-virus-lacking Trade.

And the little BAMBI-s prance-meadow-thingy, no less or worse, flahgelants or EX-Anarchists who serve Tourists in Taormina, Mombasa, Coney Island or Brighton, these Brothels, this  trade applies, croak-reptile eyelids-open. A Season Swahmi!

A Bachannalia without End. A Song of Songs. Social Cannibalism with a Napkin. NO Goodwill to All Men. No Love, no Harmony, Music, no Yin, mostly our HUNGER, our fear of Tomorrow or  who PAYS the Ferryman, how DO we actualize Utopia here, here in this Brothel of Tourists, Strangers, where we ply our Trade...


c.2020. davedelacroix. the merry month of may, u.k.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The ART of Dying.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The ART of Dying.


dedicato. Marquis Jean Debatts.


SIBOKU, stick a blade, lower coronary. Gotta wear the correct Kimono-thingy. Look serious....Falling stone-drunk off the back end of a speeding SEMI-18-Wheeler, yet another option. Road=kill. Sacred. Dead is Dead. Upscale, the Waiter-Bell-boy hates ya guts! Cheap-ass Checkout! ...So do the Firemen-Ambulence lads and lasses who get to SWEEP U Up.
Can I buy U a Cocktail...
I just swept up a Dead Guy.
......did U find his WALLET...cos I-m broke...

AMTRAK Suicides, usually in a Jalopy. Train Engineer never AGAIN plays with his Toy Train Set. SUICIDE-BY-COP. Boys and Girls hand over their GUN, BADGE and Baby Blues and awonder, maybe get a Gig at the Hardware Store. Someplace quiet. THEY are dying too.
And the Casualties, the Ordinary-Walking-Wounded, the Regular DOOMED. Nothing changes. The ART of Dying, impossible to perfect.

To go, in BATTLE! To go with a ROAR! FREEDOM! To go with a SHOUT! Ya BASTARDS-you-ll never take me ALIVE! A Revolutionary! BOOM!!!... Better still...go with a Joke! Try not SHARING. On the OTHER hand...some JOKES last longer than Others!... But keep it YOU! It-s YOUR last GIG. Leastways U will be Loved. Joke-thingy...

Might wanna send flowers to immediate attendants and PAY in advance for Bedsheet Laundry expenses. A Toy or 2 for the local Kid-ragamuffins. Afterall, no sense in dying without a sense of Hope and for your BELA, a dying kiss. JEEZE! I-m ALREADY writing your Song!


c.2020. savedelacroix. cancer survivor. 64. Totally pissed-off!...lol.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Tucumcari Highway 66 Diner.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Tucumcari Highway 66 Diner.


I gotta Skyline, U gotta Skyline too, maybe Sunrise, Sunset, some twilight or Apres-midi hues. Don-t matter, your KISS, any time will Do, long since.
I gotta Skyline, U, maybe, ignore the Fuel. I gassed UP, Route 66, skid my wheels, but I aint going No place...without U.
I gotta Skyline, a Face, a Cloud, an illusivity, a roar of dust, a bellow of infantile Roar, a Be-bop-a-loop-A, a GIG, got my Name all over it. A Worthless Dog, sez fore-arm Tatoo. WotchagonnaDo. No Aliens. No Immediate Tyranny. Just Me and U. Death Valley. And that Tomorrow-s Skyline. That High Noon that looks us in Love-s Eye.


c.2020. davedelacroix. Tucumcari Diner.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Lonesome, Lockdown 2020.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Lonesome, Lockdown 2020.


HE STETSON U-R hard to please and....BAR, gonna Suck my JAR. Maybe U shot a few INDIANS, don-t count CHINESE, I can see by your BOLO... a SHARPED-DRESSED-MAN. No worries Babee WE accomodate One and All.
Sharpe-Shooter Annie, MRS MINIVER, McCabe at the CHECK-OUT....awaiting!

He ain-t no Dead-Man-Plaid. Arrives with Coach and Horses, BOOT HILL BOX< some folks GOT all it-s figured. Extra Bullets, extra can of Coffee and Beans, a  kick, a smile, a Last Chance Wheeze, yet just HOW, or would U want to take them down! Talkin bout your lonesome Whistle!...Kids panning for Gold. South of Alaska.

HE-S in love with Arabella. Torquoise-swinging, star of the night who gives fright to the Gold Dust Prospecting-Saloon. That Mortality happening. And ... walked in the room. Some KID!
Get him outta here! Get him outta MONTANA! Get him out of my bed,
LVANA! I told Momma I could Nae take care the Bains. My Breasts, Gold-dust layered, since I went away...

c.davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Old Saul, Blind Pete and Frenchie. Viro-2020

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Old Saul, Blind Pete and Frenchie...Viro-2020.

dedicato. Count Jean-Phillipe Delafay.


OLD SAUL LIVED ALONE, some Friends, not much. Like Musical Chairs, long-since, somebody SHOT the Piano Player. And now, no Chairs left and too many memories to make Sleep peaceful. Just dozing and a 20 minute Prostate that required Pissoir attentioni. Upstairs Renting Whizz-kid neighbour got him a cheap-ass Cellphone. Old Saul couldnt see the PHONE nevermind its keyboard. If it RANG, if he was not on the Crapper or in the TUB he-d answer, mores-likely whistle Dixie and forget.

OLD SAUL had a TAXI-Limo service, £7.30 round-trip to the CO-OP Supermarket. BIG DAY! Knew all the KIDS who worked there. Angus, Sheila, Terry, the Gay-Guy. Fingers and Thumbs he-d make it through. Meat, Eggs, Milk, Veg, Booze. Rather partial to Amontillado Dry Sherry. Smokes-Tobacco, AMBER-LEAF, of course! Would after stand outside Market happily chain-SMOKING awaiting Limo getting HATE-Looks ffrom Joggers, Cyclists, COVID 19 Robotica-market-queues in the sunshine as he-d holler to approaching BLIND PETE, pavement-windshield wiping the sidewalk with his white cane. SAW-AUDIO, saw one another since U.K. Lockdown-Hugging Means DEATH! ..So full of Hoorahs! How U Doin, Groovey stuff. 2 Outsiders MORE Inside than the Market-queue Onlookers could ever be, maybe.. Good to SEE U!...Mutual chuckles. Blind Pete would Rat-A-Tat his Cane!

OLD SAUL was an ACE-Cook. Stews, Curries, Inventive Cheese-Prsciutto platters. His Culinary Achilles Heel was AUNT BESSIES Sage and Onion Stuffing. FRENCHIE, his Pub drinking AMIGO once made jokes about it. 10 years Saul-s senior and a stalwart of the great British stamina, courtesy of a Career in the British Army, Warrant Officer, Ret., Frenchie found Old Saul on his kitchen floor clutching a bottle of Pinot Noir, heard his last words...FUCK YOU!!!...smiled and closed Old Saul-s  Virus 2020 eyes. Frenchie dug out his own phone and called the requisite numbers then re-positioned  his face mask.


c.2020. davedelacroix, truro, cornwall, u.k. This a work of FICTION. Just a Truro-Cornwall-based Nano-blog-story folks. No resemblance to scalliwags living or dead.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Jules and Jim, Virus 2020.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Jules and Jim, Virus 2020.


WHEN THE VIRUS RAGED I never bothered bout Me, just drank more. My thoughts only of Brother Jean, Bela Isabel, Lady Caroline and that Family-teasing-partake, dans Virus non-complete.

Whilst the Virus Raged, I didnt Work, Think, Shake my Soul, didnt PRAY except for Jean and a brand new day without a rising Body Count.

When the Virus cooked our Goose, the saddest thing, no dinner guests to share Life-s bounty, all the leftovers we thoughtlessly threw away. Isabel, Caroline. Jules and Jim.

When the Virus ended I went in search of Jules, he too, of Me. We never Did recognise one another but like passing Refugees, eventually, we hugged and kissed nolonger knowing who once we were.


c. The month of May, 2020, dave delacroix. Our Man in Europe.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... In Camus-s Plague.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... In Camus-s Plague.


In Camus-s Plague the dead were dead, the Sick, sick, the ailing, ailing, the Nursery of Pandemic took the SONG out of any rhyme.
It was dirty bandages, defecating limbs of meat, STENCH, an emergency lost in emergencies, no Hi-tech flashing-light-Walkie-Talkies squawkies,  and Uniforms, all KINDS of Drama Queens, Space Cadets, Squawkers, Losers, Pandemonium-Usurpers, little HITLERS, Commandants, Politicians who-d APPEAR-film crew In-tow disrupting squeaky wheels of navigating body-trolleys conveying corpses to the RE-frigerated Semi-truck out back.
And then that SHOCK-PRISM of Silence.
Wasn-t so much the smearing blood to speak of. The blood was OURS. And God forgive Us. Sometimes we became Immobile. Sometimes we just stared...


c.2020. davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Kafka-s Happy Hour.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... Kafka Happy Hour.


I was at the Train Station. Trains pulling IN and OUT. No Passengers. I fumbled with an antiquated Cigarette Machine. Not like in Las-Vegas, America. Money was not dispensed. Just the face of a Bull-Woman, positively YURRKING I was busted, outside of Czechish-Lockdown LAW. I said FUCK JU BITCH this Montparnesse!...PARIS! U-Foreigner, Bitch-said. CAN I get a Ticket to Toulouse. She showed me, from UNDER her SCNF uniform her ample left breast....


c.davedelacroix. 2020.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Rainy Day.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Rainy Day.


dedicato. F. Scot Fitzgerald.


When I signed that divorce Cheque, cleaned me OUT... DAFNY went off to Long Island, smiling, chauffered in my REO Speedsta Auto, day before the 2005 Stock-market-thingy CRASH. I held back $50 for a Highball at the Waldorf-Astoria. But deceided... I kept it for a rainy day.  I rolled up my shirtsleeves and hitch-hiked to California. Went to Hollywood. Became a Movie Stunt Man.
Decades, it seems, later...when yet ANOTHER Gal left me, THIS ONE Over-dosed. Pills, ON TOUR, the Band, broken, Agents=Promoters, flew away and after all that SMOKE and Hippie-Cool rhetoric-  SPIT!..I gave them their LENTILS back. Deceided NOT to GO Country N Western! LONG ISLAND SONGS ONLY!...Outright Quit!  Went to England to Poeticize my lighted fuse.
Was THAT in the 50s, 60-s, 70-s, 80-s...whatever. Retro-hallucinations!....Annonymity AS Fame! LIVE in DREAMS. Desire IS PAIN!
Apparently I have Artistic Longelivity.
When I was Pandemix-Lockdown in 2020, the Year of the YOU, I wish I-d had that REO Speedsta Auto for a rainy day. Dafny OWNED IT... FOR a Day!...And the Fate of Dafny...within the  Stock Market crash. I never knew. OMG!!! ...Like a Rainy Day ever rankin at mah craw!...


c.2020. davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Pandemix Jail Confession

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... Pandemix Jail Confession.


NO CHINESE, NO ITALIANO, just U and Me
Al Dente, Medium Rare, BEANSHOOT.
No Espana, No Francais, no New Orleans Jazz and Blues,
No SALSA, no Reggae, a thing without SOUL
now your Best Friend, that Cadillac, that Bank Account,
that Holiday Inn, that ESCAPE.
NO Lear Jet, NO CRUISE, no escape. No DESIGNER,
no Exclusivo, no CREDIT CARD, no
Cocktail Party Kiss,  no MOSH PIT Hug,
no YO BRO, YO, YO YOKO! -the kiss of DEATH, same as it always WAS.
No Chinese, no Italiano for ME in Jail,
sentenced like everybody ELSE - for a Crime I didn-t commit.
No CHINESE, No ITALIANO.
...Outside, OUTSIDE this Death-Cell...wonder how its gonna be. Larry X,
next cell, comming CLEAN on missing bodies. Rather get the CHAIR
than the C-19.
Wonder how it works Outside...to a lesser degree....


c.2020. dave delacroix









Gotta be quick. Pasta boiled down and FRYIN...!!!

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Cornwall Wreck

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Cornwall Wreck.


Oh! Old Reilly when U gonna come home, the kids, gone, grow, the old Woman threw U out years ago and yet U fumble round in Potters Field-mumbling who knows what, tales of vague yesteryear and now and then, a mental Jig or Dance to make all round START and wonder if U R NOT there, though in evidence, a Pint of Ale, a Baccy pouche, a loaf of Bread, some Ham or Cheese how fairs the Wind with U O-Reilly, Lover, Adventurer, Merchant, Father and Son...And I here HEAR some Smugglers down by Cornwalls Pontyprid-forth are looking for a Good Man to assist-steering a Vessel upon the jagged coastline rocks! Perhaps U-ed be a helping hand. Foreigners yer-see, sailing by. Need a Stalwart, a Steady hand to wave a cliff-top lantern... but, on second thoughts, maybe you-ve seen all this before....! Oh! Old Reilly-s new Missus, hollerin from yonder shack. C-mon Old Boy! Get awah from him. He can tak no more! ....his bones with the devil!


c.2020. davedelacroix,truro, uk.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Darwin Awards.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Darwin Awards.


dedicato. Doc Boone...in the John Wayne Movie... Stagecoach.


EVERYBODY GOT dat GIG, everyone affected. Everyone dancing BOOGALOO, everyone CLUCKING... Virus of Shame. Everyone got a RED Dress, everyone BLUE N don-t know what to Do. Except the Super-rich, PLAGUE-FREE, flying to some UNspoilt Virus-Free...First time in a Long time...Sharing-Mode!

Everybody got dah BUG, that INNER-perspect- ORIGAMI of the WALKIE-TALKIE-SOUL that springs its COIL once, now and again to SUCCUBUS-reflection, eyes-contact in the  morning Mirror, reaching for the Mouthwash!

Everybody got dat JAZZ, that Saxophone Solo that slitheres into your Night and leaves U wishing it was Dawn.
WISH I-d took dem Piano Lessons!!!
And, ALAS...
Everybody-s Culpable, everyone-s Innocent. The UNforgiving lines...for the Darwin Awards.


c.2020, may, davedelacroix.