Don't ask

I've come a long way

to get here:
in all,
prowled through the cityscape
   to get to about five different places
   to swim through
            769 bottles of beer

and back
and still
I have nothing to tell, child.
I thank you for giving me credit
for the head start of a few years
here
alive
but
my muddy soles don't tell no tales.
I am the hobo with no backpack.
the uneventful spirit.
the 40-year old virgin
     sitting afternoon
     upon afternoon away
     on a rocking chair
     somewhere
     in that big old dark house around the corner