Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...In MEXICO...The Cancun Diaries: No.26: THE CAW.
A Raven-s CAW in Adam-s RIB, An INFLICTION, no EVE could Spinster-spin, nor Witches, Vampires, Leprachauns, Gaelic-types, the creators of Country & Western Music singing of Pastures-past, Auld Lang Sigh, or the DEVILS DRAM, either-each way, everybody, miserably, gets to die .If there-s a Chorus: Go ahead and repeat it.
With a CLEAR Nose in L.A.-s Cocaine Smog, and a GAL who-d talk TWICE-a-Dozen. Or Hollywood Plantation Gangsters: Let-s DO a Movie!...Meantime, at the A>A>(Alchies Anon in Malibu), U R sure of HUGS to bloody-stake-your intuition, your Dick, your Vuvaloni; and the SALAD BAR is Free. Still. U get RAPED on the Salad Dressing. Ask any successful Movie Star...?...Pickles, French, 1,000 Islands.
A Raven-s CAW gets IN your Soul. That BUGGER U cannot quite pick OUT of you Intelligence. It worms, it festers...might have it-s own Surfboard...but when the GIG is YOU, the CAW, the Gig is done. And in your E-mails to sweet Sister Mary-Lou back in Missouri, a Vacuum Cleaner of HUM and latent despondency. The CAW comes through.
Happy Days!
c.2021, davedelacroix; happy in Cancun.
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