On my way home from work yesterday I participated in a poll conducted by one of the youngest pollsters in America.

I was on my bike, trying to push through the thick August heat. My route home passes several playgrounds and basketball courts and I usually look over to see kids and teens and even adults at play.

But yesterday, there was a skinny black boy in sneakers and a t-shirt standing just at the edge of the path, toes touching pavement, looking expectantly. As I approached I smiled and the boy said something.

“Foradlkfjump?” I had no clue what the little boy had said so I started breaking, looking confused. 

“Vofqofwkuimp?” he said again.

“What?” I asked, still confused.

Slowly this time, and with my bike completely stopped, he repeated, “Vote for Donald Trump?”

“Me? Nawww. You?” I asked.

“Nope!” the little boy answered.

“Good,” I responded as I turned and started biking again, smiling at the little pollster.


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