We shunned the local retard at our parents’ insistence. “But, Mom, I like him.” “Sorry, sweetie, stay away.” Dumb weirdo.
A neighborhood child, post-polio, walked with a limp. No more friends. Crippled weirdo.
Daddy said I shouldn’t play with my Negro classmate. She had a brother. Dangerous weirdo.
The chronic section of the asylum housed the hopeless ones, masturbating in public. I laughed at them. Crazy weirdos.
My landlady, a nurse, turned down buying a building because a child nearby had Down Syndrome. Must be contagious. Sick weirdo.
A woman coping with residual encephalitis locked herself out of her house. No one helped. Scary weirdo.
My mentally-ill son asked a museum employee if they had sculptures inside. “No,” he lied. My son, the weirdo.
Old fogies, on a park bench, sit with nothing better to do. I’ll never be like them. Guess again. Old weirdo.
Weirdo. Weirdo. Weirdo.