Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "The Day of our Night."
THE DAY OF OUR NIGHT that comes all too soon. No Guinivere, no Eloise, and no Brigadoon to bagpipe you're passing nor ferry cross U O-er the river Styx? And no coins on your eyes, no whisky on your lips.
That day of your night no Nightingale sings. Divested of your glory your Hummingbird wings that solvent bestowed, yet a swallow's flight, now a murder of crows, night eternal. (DANG!!!)
The day of our night, the kernel of our mortal plight. The jagged THROAT CANCER that steals all my might. Wishful thinking at the 11th hour, a last great aspire? No KISSES for sure!
Yet no rage nor distemper for that day of my night. Multitudes, some in battle, some in PEACE now all un-raveled in resistance distemper?
A dismember. Yet an echo. Acclaimed? Or a joke! All worries like DEBTS - mine? - U can put EM in the Post. Guitars & souvenirs of all MY Yesterday's reign. A sound & the fury - Upstairs/Downstairs - we might meet again. (Ya never know?)
The day of our night. Tomorrow>day after? Maybe tomorrow looks like rain? (I hate to be pessimistic...) Sunday BBQ coming up. Guess I'll wear me olde Tuxedo!
c.2025. Dave Delacroix.
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