No one likes to think they may be enjoying
their last knockwurst.

But you reach an age where such thoughts
slip past the polka band,
step out on the dance floor
and do the chicken dance.

Of course, life being the trickster
that it is, anything might be a last.
Last trip down I-65.
Last time drinking a cold Pilsner.
Last time wearing lederhosen.

Our time at the festival of the living
is brief.

So, savor the moment:
make it two hotdogs,
with relish.