A Stranger on the Fourth of July

Icons of someone else's childhood crowd my senses,
Waves of pride curl me under in the
Riptide of a picnic on the Fourth of July.

The current could just spit me out; 
Intruder's jostled sideways in the flow of nation's pride.
America does not.
Instead she gathers me up in the 

Clear blue waters of acceptance 
And shelters 'til my sea legs
Find firm purchase on the sand.