Yesterday, I took a walk.

I went through the park,

I passed by one empty cup,

two used napkins,

three cigarette butts.

I jaywalked across the street,

past the hardware store

and into the coffee shop.

I ordered a small latte,

handed the pretty barista a five-dollar bill

and stuffed the change in my pocket.

Tomorrow, I’ll take another walk.

I’ll go through the park,

I’ll pick up one empty cup,

two used napkins,

three cigarette butts,

and I’ll throw them in the trash can

or recycling bin permitting.

I’ll cross the street at the crosswalk

and find somewhere to wash my hands.

I’ll pass the hardware store,

where I’ll wave to the owner’s son,

who’ll be repainting their logo on the window,

and I’ll go into the coffee shop.

I’ll order a large latte,

hand the pretty barista a ten-dollar bill

and set the change in the tip jar.

I’ll ask her how her day is going

and if she’s busy after work,

I’ll take her out

and one day fall in love with her.

But today I’ll lay around,

I’ll look out the window,

the one next to my bed.

I’ll watch the litter sit,

polluting and ugly.

I’ll think of all the people

I will not impress

and all the money I don’t possess

and my mind will spin.

Tonight, I’ll dream of happiness

and tomorrow, I’ll take a walk.