For Tourist Woman,nthe itching is turning to fever nand then to formnFor Tourist Woman,ninsecurities are bunk-pollen for the swarmnAnd vice-versa,nthe swarm, turning to fury,ncaptures a prisonernTourist Woman is unhappy nwith the meager conditions nthey have given hernFrom Oxford to UCLAnto empoverished streets nof a Bengali villagenT.W. fights for nothing, nbelieves in nothing,nexcept an imagenThe image in her mind nis of vague originnof, mostly, western resultnSomewhat pyramid, somewhat cross,nsomewhat a mongrel cultnLike the old mannWho slept his life awaynRomantics are doomedn(and that's a good thing)