Met her in a coffee shop in Durango.
She was getting ready to close up for the night.
I told her that I wasn't from around there.
She said, "I know--
I can see that in your eyes."
I asked her what she meant,
but she wouldn't answer.
She told me that her name was Pearl.
I said, "No one's got a name like that one anymore."
But she did.
She was my Colorado girl.
She said her father,
he was a cowboy.
I said, "You must be pulling my leg.
There's no such thing as cowboys anymore."
She said, "Well you never met my dad."
She hadn't seen that much of him either.
Said, "He could be anywhere in the world."
Said she was beyond being sad about it now.
But she was sad.
She was my Colorado girl.
She said she felt like driving,
so we climbed into her van.
We rode around in the San Juan mountains,
and then we headed out for no man's land.
We spent the night in Alamosa
at the Lamplighter motel,
drinking watermelon agua fresca.
With my Colorado girl.
With my Colorado girl.
With my Colorado girl.