LOOKING FOR LUCKIN BANGKOKOften at markets I seepeople standing in lineto walk under an elephant.They count out a few coins,then crouch to slip beneaththe wrinkly umbrella that smellsof dust and old ageand a thousand miracles.They unfold on the other sideblessed with long life,good luck, solace from grief,unruly children, and certainliver complaints.Conspicuous Caucasian,I stoop to take my turn.The feet of my elephant are stoas planted pines. His trunk comthis honest structure,
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