Ashes to ashes

‘Don’t touch that!’

The pickup truck
had a fancy paint job,
lowered suspension,
chrome exhaust stacks,
naked women on the radiator,
chrome running boards,
an eight cylinder engine
and my fingertips,
lightly stroking
the rear view mirror.

He had been famous once
and now he lived in Spain,
still touring the clubs, playing
the old hits to old audiences
and buying flashy old cars
that had seen better days
with the money he made.