Black Cadillacs

The black Cadillacs were a reminder
of your time,
expired.
They told the story
of the unknown
to come.
The procession followed,
despite being left in your
wake.
Soon they will gather around you
and whisper in tongues like a
Native American shaman
coaxing flame to dance
at his fingertips.
Someone,
will pass around a flask
as they praise your last name.
Your bother-in-law
will steal your watch.
I will simply observe.
The dead do not live on in spirit,
they are forgotten.
Your achievements will be
forgotten.
But most importantly
your mistakes will be forgotten;
wiped clean and sterile
like your body,
re baptized and ready to return to the earth.