Not sure where I am, but know where I ain’t

This isn't the eight lane freeways of Los Angeles
clogged with immovable five o'clock traffic
or the snow covered rockies
the day before the new year is set to begin,
and isn't the holiday inn express where
I crash overnight on business road trips.

It isn't the main lobby of the metropolitan
opera in nyc, or the third floor of a soon closing
macy's where all toys are marked down 50%,
and isn't my backyard, no matter how much
time we spend mowing the lawn and weeding.

It isn't a finger painting by a precocious
five year old girl who's destined to be a plumber,
or a schematic for a factory that will produce
batteries for next generation electric cars,
and isn't the paddock for elephants
at even the most humanely designed zoo.

It isn't the mess left in my living room after
the guys have been over for poker night,
or what Kyiv looks like after the russians
have retreated leaving bodily reminders
of their cruelty, and isn't an image
of a nursing home where my mother lives.

Not sure where I am
but at least we've identified
where I ain't.