An immigrant’s calculus of gains and losses

I’ve escaped hunger and war.
My grandparents did not.

I’ve escaped poverty and voicelessness.
My parents did not.

I guess you could say that all in all I did well
And really escaped a lot.

You would be right to say that, but let me add a caveat
So to speak, thicken the plot:

I’ve escaped knowing the names of any native flowers and trees (native where?)

I’ve escaped my friends from the playground, and those from school.

I never learned the geography of any country,
The streets of any city,
The TV shows from any era, in any language
That at any time were considered “classic” or “cool”.

I don’t know how to buy that special knife for the pretentious cutting of cheese.
Not that I want to, but I don’t know how to cook Thanksgiving dinner.

When I spread my wings I can spread them a lot wider, but definitely a lot thinner.

I’ve escaped allegiance – in both directions.
I am nobody’s maid of honor.
I’ve stepped out of any coherent plot.

And only now, ever since my kids were born,
Did I suddenly remember to define myself by what I am,
And not always only but that which I am not.