There was only one thing

I wanted to give to you

before you moved away

to Chicago.

A small square

that holds a second of time

that can be viewed at any moment

in the future.

It contains too many colors for me to count

a plethora of emotions that will be difficult

for me to feel again.

Bennie and the Jets

played more than once on the radio that day.

We shouted the lyrics

at the top of our lungs,

felt the air of our city

flow through our fingers

as we spread them wide

over the skylines.

We owned the city that day,

and I decided to take a photo

to prove it,

to prove we made it

higher than anyone else could

even if it was just for a moment.

Now the photograph

sits in the back of my desk,

shoved into a cheap card

with no address written on the front.

I'm not sure if I'm waiting for

the day to send it

or if I'm keeping it

to look at the next time

Bennie and the Jets plays.

Either way,

the photo reminds me of a friend

and the only thing I have

left to give them.