There was a day when the Milky Pens dried out, and the Pogs stopped slammin,’
and the principal banned the Tomagatchi’s from your bell bottom belt loops
and the pre-pubescent Popstar in the checkout line gave up grinning –
and you refrained from ripping him out and plastering him on your wall, or your binder
. . . or above your bed.
Where did your Beanie Babies migrate to? They grew endangered and then extinct.
Or were you one of those kids who sealed their TY hearts in impermeable plastic,
vowing to sell them when they were worth millions, only to replace them
with Furbies who laughed perpetuously at their voiceless predecessors –
Until one day you threw them out the window and grew up.