The 40th Year Poem by Mark J. Schulte

As Andrew L. Krueger ponders the year,
the sweat on his palms clearly signals his fear -
of an annus horribilis coming quite near.
A. Lemberg Krueger is turning 40...

He looks quite normal in his 40th year.
But his liver's been ravaged by whisky and beer;
and his tonsured toupee makes it perfectly clear -
Andy's over the hill...

His colleagues all laugh and the young lawyers jeer.
He's known as 'Young Fogey' and the 'Wizened Vizier.'
He's even called 'vintaged' by the Omaha Seer! !
Uh-Oh! He forgot to file the UCCs again? ?

His viewpoint has changed in political spheres:
libertarian streaks have begun to appear.
To increasing taxes he'll give the Bronx cheer!
But forget it. He'll never join the GOP.

What does one cling to in a world this austere?
To Andy, the question is really quite clear.
It's Greenbay, the Packers, Pabst-and-Stroh's beer.
(Cheeseheads, Unite!)

If, into the future young Andy could peer,
he'd see that it's really all down-hill from here.
When one gets past 40 - no marriage or career!
Time to take up squirrel hunting...

Andy, Oh Andy! please look in the mirror.
Those years that you borrowed - coming due in arrears...
How does it feel on that Final Frontier?
Andy: Live long and prosper!

Meese-ka, Moose-ka, Mouse-keteer.
Andrew L. Krueger's time is now here.
The Big Enchilada; the sum-of-all-fears.
Happy 40th Birthday, Andy! !