Paris Review by Vincent James Perrone

You’re in Paris,
Kentucky cooking escargot
with a magnifying glass.
I’m in Detroit Metro
redacting the boarding pass
with stupid, solitary glee.
This airport is a tepid
aquarium—the scent of fear
and every strata of cologne.
It’s the beginning of
Breathless—criminal.
Waiting for the go-ahead.
Enough men with wings.
Toussaint Louverture
only had a horse.
The agreement is to stand
between canals and wait
for the echo of ancestors.
In Kentucky, you teach
your sister’s children
to stick their tongues out.
A family does laundry
in silent resentment.
You investigate the territory.
In this airport
I dissect a croissant
with a plastic spork.
You make lemonade
with your nephews
and give it away for free.
I want to be missed
more than I want to be
alone in Europe.
But what I want most
is to board a plane
without panic.
Flying is always ironic.
You can buy cigarettes
but you can’t smoke.
Vincent James Perrone is the author of the full-length poetry book, "Starving Romantic" (11:11 Press, 2018), the forthcoming chapbook, "Travelogue for the Dispossessed" (Ghost City Press, 2021), and a contributor to "Collective Voices in the Expanding Field" (11:11 Press, 2020). Recent work published and forthcoming from The Indianapolis Review, Emerge Literary Journal, Levee Magazine, and more. Say hi on Twitter @spookyghostclub or at vincentjamesperrone.com