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Shopping In Bangkok
I ask to see the aquamarine
my grandmothers birthstone.
No, not earrings; a pendant, perhaps?
There were three. Each large, well-cut.
The Thai saleswoman says,
very beautiful, yes?
She looks at me expectantly.
Suddenly, I am crying:
My eighty-five year old grandmother
labels everything with the name
of the one who will receive it when she dies.
The one person who should get
this pendant if I were to give
it to my grandmother is
the granddaughter who shares her birthstone,
aquamarine, the granddaughtermy sister
who nearly shared her birthday,
but is now long dead,
so I tell the saleswoman,
No. No. It is not quite right.
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