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 or 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.
Commentary
(1993)
This is one of my recent discoveries by James Fenton, currently holding the Auden chair at Oxford. A poem about Love which rejects sentimentality and yet, in its simplicity, manages to convey it all the more. I particularly love the last verse which substitutes ‘Paris’ for love whilst ‘loving’ love all the while. Fenton’s gentle and light hearted touch sings a sensual and loving poem.
Marina Furniss-Roe
Links
Here’s a biography of Fenton:
http://www.bedfordstmartins.com/litlinks/poetry/fenton.htm
An excerpt from his book 'Slave to the Rhythm', on the uses of rhyme:
[broken link] http://books.guardian.co.uk/fentonserial/story/0,12098,819318,00.html
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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.
Supriya Nair · 12 January 2003
So this is ‘Love Disappointed’ week, is it?? :))
This poem reminded me of one of those English films from the 50s and 60s, all golden scarves and red lipstick, mercifully faded into dignity by the years. And the miserable gorgeous blonde heroine with the scruffy charmer. Hope fails us when they meet and embark on their seemingly self-destructive tour of the foreign city, and yet, in the end, for our own sakes, we believe they will come together. Of course, they must. Human happiness depends on the Hollywoodish predictability of their fates. And they do!
Supriya.
Kristine · 25 April 2003
Hello,
My name is Kristine and I live in South Dakota and attend Black Hills State University. We are studying Fenton’s poem, In Paris With You. I have been searching the web for any recitations of this particular poem and where I might be able to purchase it. This was the only site I have found that had this poem on it and I noticed that you had e-mailed it in. If you know where I might be able to find it please let me know. Thank you for your time. Kristine
The Gibson Gallery · 7 June 2005
you can find the poem in Out of Danger by James fenton, i dont know if this is any good to you anymore. just thought id let you know. candice
Alexandra · 7 May 2006
This poem is the single best thing I have ever read on new relationships, on enjoying someone very much although you don’t yet love them (and maybe won’t), on when being together with someone is being elsewhere and far more exciting than going outside. It also rhymes “sleazy” with “Champs-Elysées”, and I love Fenton for that. For that and for the wonderful coyness - yet absolute directness - of “…all points south”.
I read this down the phone to my girlfriend, what seems like a million years ago, in an effort to convince her that I wasn’t going to start talking about love or devotion any time soon, and it seemed to work. Lovely poem.
-L.