Wednesday, May 20, 2009

In Paris With You....

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.

James Fenton

. image by Alicia Bock


  1. Oh, this is one of my favourite poems. Thanks for reminding me of it.

  2. How have I never heard this one before? It's *perfect.*

  3. lovely. this reminds me of the short film Hotel Chevalier i saw a few days ago...about a couple in a hotel room in Paris.

  4. Sigh sigh sigh.. oh to be a lovelorn bohemian wandering the rues with a baguette under the arm.

  5. ust read your post after listening to "ne me quitte pas" on pia jane bijkert's blog. It's all too much - I'm going to have to go to the French deli and buy some cheese to alleviate the Paris cravings.


play nice.