thirty days to live

you find out you
have a month
to live.
you've picked up
a rare disease
having been bitten
by a mosquito
while visiting
mozambique for
a summer vacation.
so you plan to go
out with a bang
and ring your credit
cards up to the max.
you cash in your
savings, your
retirement, your
hidden cash reserves.
you take all your coin
jars to the bank
and pour them into
the cash back machine.
you sell your house
and start
buying new cars for
all your friends,
the ones you really like,
not just pretend,
and boats, fur
coats and diamond
rings. you eat
and party, drink,
throw caution
to the wind with
unprotected sex.
you have become a wild
man again like you were
a few years ago
when you turned
fifty. you spend the days
and nights in silk
pajamas, dancing
and singing.
but a month goes
by and you don't die.
you don't even feel
sick. in fact you
have never felt better
in your life with
all the pressures
off. and then your
doctor calls, seems
there was a mix
up at the lab.
my bad, he says.
you'll be fine.