The Delhi smoke is thick
tonight, my love—
but here on this wide road,
the wind is cool.
Remember how it used
to taste, you say—
like burning plastic, fear,
and diesel fuel.
This year, there is a new
scent in the air,
like flowers blooming
after a great fire.
I’m searching for a way
back home again—
Perhaps we’ll build a better
home, you say.