The Megans, the Caitlins, the Courtneys
come blissfully marching along.
I know if I wait then shortly
they’ll be followed by a Siobhan.
Where are the Nancys and Deborahs
I knew so long ago?
I seem to recall lots of Barbaras
and a Karen or three or mo’.
Somehow these names have faded
into memories of the past.
At the time, before we were jaded,
we assumed that they would last.
But they turned out to be merely fashions
that now are out of date.
They once were spoken with passion
but have met a mortal fate.
I suppose it’s all for the better
if it keeps fading gigolos
from penning vapid love letters
and taking off all of their clothes
for there’s no surer sign to a winsome young lass
that she’s dealing with aging men
than to hear these words as they make a pass:
“Er, what was your name again?”