Our Man in Europe/America/Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Happy Hour-Kowloon!"
...Rockstars don't get UP till 2-O-clock, DIVAS till 7, Gigolos TRY, freshly shaven to address the World by 11? Hermits SHIT 24-7, Carpenters, the break of dawn, housewives - rich or poor - their work is never done? -Bambinos, clothes to wash, mouths to feed and bills to pay? Always mouths to feed. No Patron Saint I ever heard of?...
Artists THROW their Paint at Walls, a Sculptor tears down concrete crumble, as a Plumber eases a Critics indigestion, a vagrant begs for "change"...A WHORE, maybe your "Bela" will challenge your virality, an inner-Devil to creep into your reality to side-long fatality to usurp U of Your Song? And AMONGST the Order of the Angels, why not, waiting for God's TAXI-string along?
Clowns, Stand-Up Comedians, Comedians, tears of clowns to "Cheese-waye" the truth, to put it down, to surround the smile and make it cry, that Kowloon-Happy Hour, that Cocktail Hour.
Regardless, your "San-Pan" awaits in full bamboo-sail, a breeze to arrive, Hades, silver coins upon your eyelids, your "tap-dancing' no longer cuts the cloth nor weaves Tomorrow's Kimono. And Happy Hour, a fleeting vision for your Soul.
c.2025. dave delacroix. corozal-belize.
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