Check out this poem

Just by the oddest happenstance, I came upon this poem yesterday. I just love it. The poet is a professor at Oxford and that's about all I know about him. I think I'm going to try to find some more of his poetry. Anyway, this is all I have to say today - and he says it ever so much better than I ever could.
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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 we are 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.
-- James Fenton