Sonnet Which Is Not a Sonnet

oh oxford and your distinct lack
of chinatowns, your soggy stone
mornings and such english breakfasts,
the distinct lack of food other than
breakfast on weekends, lack of
sun, insulation, edible dumplings;
give me neon-glare, greenlit
sushi places, low-calorie, calorie free
asian noodles; what can be more
asian than a noodle, more asian
than me; I — who cannot read
the chinese newsletter, the chinese
buildings, who only understand food
and lack, this lack of edible china,
the only kind of language, chinese
language, I have, fully fluent?