Paris & Other Poems

ALEX DIMITROV

Paris On Rue de Bretagne I stoodand I was a blond.I was alone that summerand many people and thingspassed through my mouth.Who are you? My therapistasked every Wednesday.I’m not sure Jonathan.I need a glass of rosé.A chain around my neck.To be hit even when I’ve beengood (and especially good).Who are you? I loved himfor saying it that way.He wanted to know more than I did.I put so many vodka-soaked olivesin me at Little Red Door.I told Luka I loved him.I told strangers moreof my life than I did my own family.How everything was falling apartthe way it does at the end of love.Which is a different griefthan death, my friend saidbut it’s lonely and not a streetyou want to live on for long.Whatever. I waved her off.I stood on Rue…

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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, March/April 2025

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