On hearing a woman sob in Cargese

It is 7 pm. I am hiding in my hotel room.
Next to the road, on a thread-bare bedspread,
Thro’ cheap curtains, there’s no view but I’m OK.
Then I hear a woman sobbing. I repeat, sobbing.

This is not the place for a woman to sob.
There’s the sea to soothe (with a few irritants ashore).
It is scrub land (but city folks’ paradise).
One is loony to be alone (now you know why I hide).

But with savage tourist instincts,
In the land bereft of natives, with the French speaking English,
With the tired cleaning lady covering her bra,
To eat paella or burger? Who cares to be naked on a nude beach?

This is my first touch with life, hurrah!
I listen to the woman sobbing for 10 minutes,
Probably her dog has flu, or her bikinis are wet,
But for the rest of my stay I could think.