Charley Bob is a "walker".

He walks the roads and avenues where I live.
He doesn't appear to have a job, he just walks.....every day.
He use to walk with his zipper down
and with flacid ***** in hand proudly display himself to all who drove by,
but that embarrassed many
and they made him put his security blanket away.
Now he just grabs his crotch like the gangstas downtown.
Sorry Charley.
Every town has a "walker",
some have several.
You've seen them.
They walk the streets, lost in their own little worlds.
They look the same as they did 20 years ago.
There's the lady with nary a tooth in her head,
her ankle length skirt and her Pentecostal hairdo (PHD).
They say for 50 bucks she'll let you know why she has no teeth.
She's a "working girl walker", but she is still a "walker".
Once I was walking downtown,
and as I passed her she angrily mumbled something to me, all lips and gums,
"Muver Phucker", she said.
I don't even know her,
but she was as angry with me as if we were the best of friends.
Some "walkers" talk to themselves,
some answer themselves,
some stop and turn and scream out profundities to no-one,
or someone,
it's a matter of perspective.
It's like some shrink somewhere
gave them a prescription for their mental disorder,
walk 20 miles and see me in the morning.
Charley Bob is the best though.
I swear you can see him at 10am,
and by 5 he is still
slowly
making his way
back
from where
he went to.
I wonder what makes him turn and go home.

Charley Bob is a "walker".