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 that 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 Elysees
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.


From New Selected Poems (Penguin, 2006), copyright © James Fenton 2006, used by permission of the author and the publisher.

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James Fenton

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1For Andrew Wood

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2Wind

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3Out of the East

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4Children in Exile

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5Blood and Lead

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6Jerusalem

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7The Milkfish Gatherers

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8The Ballad of the Shrieking Man

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9Cut-Throat Christ

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10The Mistake

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11Out of Danger

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12The Skip

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13In Paris with You

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14I'll Explain

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15The Possibility

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16Hinterhof

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17Here Come the Drum Majorettes!

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18Yellow Tulips

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