Adaptations

Here, our skin is white, wide open spaces,
the only plumes are high in the sky, contrails.
my lungs breathe clean air, it's beautiful here but
there, black skin, flashing white teeth, black smoke
belches from tailpipes, grit between my teeth,
the smell of diesel in my hair lingers
days later I see the sparkle of white teeth
smiling out from a black face.