Barista at the airport asks people where they’re off to.

Reacts to us excitedly,

Oh that’s cold…Yikes, how?
All with a smile on his face.

Takes the card, 
swipes it. 
Returns a receipt without a line for the tip.

We’re surrounded by jars 
that all say the same thing:

If you don’t like change, leave it here.

Crammed in each and every one 
of them are
Single dollar bills. 

Spilled out, the airport money is
Padding the coffer of the barista.
Who will one day be taking a trip
to the most appealing place 
he’ll recall someone saying to him 

Which won’t be the place I’m going, 
single digits or if double 
not much higher than 12.

Your small latte is ready.

And even though I spent three dollars and 50 cents on a cup
I find a single and add to his.