That guy in the wheelchair
slobbering on his shirt
was once just a normal teen
Sally told me,
but he took too many drugs and
they fried his brain.
I thought she was joking,
but other kids said the same.
The guy’s parents didn’t seem too enthused
about taking care of him,
but where else could he go in a small town?
Sometimes when the weather was nice
his parents would park him outside for the day.
I’d see him in the morning
and then again in the same spot after school,
thirsty and hungry,
smelling of BM and
holding out his hand for food or candy,
mumbling something that I could never understand.
He scared me silly and I never did do drugs
in high school because of him.
In my graduating year,
he was gone.
Sally said there were police at the house
and there was an inquiry,
but no one went to jail.
Just a life of bad choices and bad luck.
It was only then that I regretted
having never given the poor guy
a damned sandwich
or a drink of water.
