My cousin’s favorite mall has claw machines.
In Tsim Sha Tsui, it’s malls and malls and malls
of Happy Shopping non-stop—really
by now, it should be Hong Kong’s national sport.
Grandma thinks we only spend five dollars
to win, but it’s really more like thirty.
And we go to a bookfair to pick up
my aunt’s favorite romance novels—
she doesn’t want any period dramas—
they’re called “small books” in Chinese for a reason.
What weird romances. Back at my cousin’s
family home, I find my uncle’s pics
of his teen idol in the cramped closet.
My aunt says nothing. Different folks. Different strokes.
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