In Paris With You

Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.

Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy

Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.

by James Fenton1

Other poems of FENTON1 (3)

Comments (12)

the description of the hotel is reflected by the mental state of the main character
You just cannot mention Paris and not think of love! ! ! Cannot wait to experience the city again! Especially at night with the stars out, lovers hand in hand and the winds breezing! ! ! !
Replace each ‘Paris’ with ‘love’. You might see the poem differently
Great fun! This one reminds me of old e e.
Good one. I have been looking for a poem on Paris for a while, my favourite destination. The way you have linked Paris and love in your poem is amazing.
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