Woman at Window

The window opened on Paris
or Prague or some other sampled

city ― and your fingers ― well, two
of them ― outlined an O. Were you

smoking ― the glass was touch-dusty ―
or pinching some delicacy?

Perhaps you were signing “okay”?
The O fell back into shadow

then, oboe-like, returned. This time,
with its lowercase mate, glowing.