The window's smeared,
a greasy faceprint
marking the spot where
an urchin was stymied
in his attempt to touch
the city,
or a lover
bowed her head, resigned
disbelief creating
distance where no space
existed heretofore.
It's hard to see beyond
the smudge, though
rivers and graffiti
and tall grass beckon,
with so much at stake
in the foreground.