Dust

With a clock on his lap he drove swiftly,

the Arizona heat befuddling him.

Destination unplanned and time limitless

and one hand on the ragged wheel

and one hand on the sweating clock.

Back in Texas a bitter woman wept.

Her renegade husband wasn't the reason.

Rather, it was the loss of her precious clock.

The cuckoo bird sang "Viva Las Vegas" poorly.

Twasn't the version by the king it sang,

this bird preferred jello.