Souvenir

It was tucked inside the 2019 phone book,

behind a coupon for a pizza place that burned down.

A glossy view of a cathedral ceiling

I never actually looked up at because my neck hurt.

The price tag on the back is a stubborn grey square,

curled at the edges and holding onto the card

with a grip I didn't have when I was standing

at the revolving door, wondering who to write to.

I put it back in the drawer next to the dead batteries.

Maybe I’ll find it again in another five years

and finally have something to say.