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.

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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