Halfway around the world, In Thailand’s twisted jungles of green
and concrete, Among the zig-zag tuk-tuk taxis,
and Buddha’s ancient golden spires,
the world is a different place.
Halfway around the world, I saw a Bangkok funeral.
I watched, at a distance, among a many-countried crowd,
a family burn their brother.
Our mouths spoke different languages,
but our eyes spoke
the same sad, tear-dammed tongue.
Halfway around the world I met my Thai grandmother.
Our mouths spoke different languages,
but our shared embrace needed no translation.
I brought her a necklace. Made in Thailand.
She handed me a Yankee’s hat.
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