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To Be Or Not To Be, That Depends On The Accent Mark

To Be Or Not To Be, That Depends On The Accent Mark

I know three languages, have two tongues, and speak one voice.
I transmute between generations and geographies.
I had a slight Southern drawl that faded away, but I can never roll my R’s.
My parents think I speak Vietnamese like a foreigner, but it is my native language.
My school made me test for ESL, but I was the first to read a book in tiếng Anh. 
I do not know of notes or keys or octaves, but I know of the six different tones.
I make my pitch higher when I’m Kiếm Lệ, so my friends think she’s cuter than me.
Perhaps, it’s because I sound like a baby. Perhaps I am Bé. 

I am the youngest child in my family of four, so I am babied.  
I stand at a towering height of 4’11,” so my basketball dreams were busted. 
I fluctuate between 80 and 85 pounds, so the doctor marked it alarming. 
My bank account loves saving money when I shop in the kids’ section for clothes and shoes.
My driver’s license is always ready for double-takes when I buy alcohol.
I could probably eat free at IHOP if I wanted, but I am twice the age and honorable.
I do not know what it’s like to reach the top shelf, but I know how to climb.
    Perhaps, it’s because I am tiny. Perhaps I am Bé. 

As a child, I slept with a búp bê named Amanda, my first bae.
I talked to my stuffed dog, Smudge, because he was one of my ban bè. 
Now, all my relationships bể because I don’t know how to build them. 
I watch cartoons, their lessons much kinder than the cruelty in adult shows.
I fail at countless interviews because talking is such a chore. 
I used to run around on playgrounds; now I’m too tired. 
I wash my dishes, fill up the gas tank, and write my funky little poems. 
    Perhaps, being a child is easier. I wish I were perpetually Bé.