keeping time

Tucson
or thereabouts
i saw a desert rose
and heard her shouts.
my father saw her too!
he said her hair was diamond black;
her eyes were cherry blue.
she mysteriously disappeared from our view

with several members of a Dead road crew
just when we thought we knew

what everyone had to do.
so we talked as we walked
and he told me a tall tale
about when he saw her swallowed by a great white whale
and he swore it was true:
there were crazy men and three bright stars
on a strip of street filled with musical bars;
dancers playing with their rocks,
and old shepherds' with furry flocks
just like Walter Cronkite on the evening news
they acted like they had nothing to lose
so, it was impossible to choose
trying to decide which way to point my finger
and not wanting to linger,
i skipped around the hill
hoping to find another empty hole to fill:
well, there was nothing but infinity and a streetcar named desire,
one man who said he'd try to be truthful but was a complete liar;
and a game show with a presidential host
just like Clarabell clown and Casper the friendly ghost.
it was time to pack my bags,
just a couple of ordinary rags
and punch the clock;
take a stroll around the block;
watch a re-run of the Howdy Doody Show,
listening to my old man shouting "Look out below!"
i'm never going to come this way again,
counting down from a hundred to one to ten;
sipping to the bottom of my glass,
looking for a dime;
giving away all my inhibitions,
but keeping time.