There's a little boy across the street from me, I think he's deaf in one ear and walks a little funny. His legs are stiff and his back is straight when I see his mother and him walk back and forth from the minivan parked close to their pathway. I never see the little boy play in the yard, or lack there of. The grass is nicely trimmed, thanks to the mexican workers paid minimum wage and the small sunflower plants sprouting by the window are standing as equally straight as he. But I never see him sniffing the flowers curiously, or smiling niiavely at the strange men working outside.

There's a little boy across the street from me, I think he's a little bit special, but I don't know why they put that sign up on the corner, he's the only child on the block and he hardly leaves his porch.


SLOW; children playing.
Slow children playing.