Musk

"We saw you smiling at a fruit," they said.
"It was a musk melon," I smiled again.

Just a sniff told me which one to choose:
The one with the draining Delhi heat
And the beloved, low-rumbling,
Water-spitting desert cooler wind;
The one with stolen mangoes
And long holidays spent all indoors;
The one with cycled-down lanes

Of yellow golden-shower trees
And memories
Cascading
From that one, closed-eyed whiff
Of the just-right
Musk melon.