not_a_problem raze "neil's got a problem," she said. i'm not sure what his problem is. if you can even call it that. maybe it's autism. maybe it's just the mistaken belief that everyone he meets means well and is worthy of his trust. the day after the last election, he rode his bike up to every stranger he saw in the park and said, "looks like we've still got the same government. what will that look like." no question mark. nothing lifted. some people stopped and let him talk for a while. some ignored him. some told him to fuck off. he's older than me. but he's just a kid. and he's got a face to match his mind. i bet he'll be eighty years old and still look like he's twelve. he lives in a group home. his parents split up years ago. neither one of them wanted him. i don't think his mom goes to see him. i don't think his dad does either. i don't think he minds much. nothing seems to bother him. not even the death of his dog. i've never seen anyone looking out for him. that's what kills me. i keep thinking about the time i saw him strumming a guitar more than twenty years ago. singing some song i didn't recognize. sitting on the grass in front of my high_school. wearing a smile that never wore out. everyone around him laughed. they thought he was a joke. any one of them could have kicked his head in. even now, any person with the right kind of evil in them could take advantage of him or hurt him anytime they like. he's an easy mark. but he always wears his helmet. and his front tire hasn't caught a stone strong enough to topple him yet. he just might outlast us all. 220922 what's it to you? who go blather from