Rachel Lauren Myers
“Economy of He-Man Slime”
At the good Savers in Danvers he spies them-
nestled between a broken speaker
and a box of Legos. A whole unopened case
of He-Man slime cans, a steal
at just 35 dollars. He buys one, calls his mother
to remind her of how, once, thirty years ago,
she threw away a can after it grew mold.
She insists he return to buy the others.
On eBay he sells two of them for 150 apiece.
One he keeps to place at home, in his own
Castle Grayskull.
When he was 10, his mother told him
no more toys. That’s it. So he kept all
he’d already collected, saved some
from the garbage. In college
he purchased his first new action figure.
Soon, his bookshelves were full of Ninja Turtles,
Spider-Man, Batman, He-Man, Mothman,
Han Solo, Luke Skywalker.
His collection receives enough attention
that they never need dusting.
Toys are held in bins and rotated out
based on holidays and his whims.
Today, he crouches on the floor,
adjusting limbs on small muscled men,
affixing weapons and capes while he casually
munches peanut M&Ms. This is his zen, these
moments before the day catches him, before
he heads to the auto shop
to break his hands
on the toys of other men.
In these mornings, he is as quiet
as all the Iowa towns
he lived in as a child.
Now, he loves
waking before the sun on Sundays,
making his weekly pilgrimage
to his favorite flea market in a converted
New England farmhouse where he spends hours
swapping tales of glory from his latest scores
with the other collectors.
He tells the regulars he overheard someone trying
to sell the unsealed, open cans he’d passed up.
He was browsing comics at a shop in Salem.
The seller was gruff, rude, looking to turn
a quick buck. He was summarily turned down and left.
The shop owner said to another employee
That’s the second guy who’s tried to hawk that shit today.
His friends know the rush of such a discovery,
these relics still intact, in their bright He-Man cans.
Not the sale of two in mint condition, but
the one he brings home and opens, peeling
back the seal to finally fill
his Masters of the Universe slime pit.
How satisfying to save the empty can
to place on display. How it completes the set.
Rachel Lauren Myers (she/her) is a poet from Reno, NV. Her work can be found in Sky Island Journal, Anti-Heroin Chic, Wild Roof Journal, and elsewhere. She recently relocated to the Cape Ann area of Massachusetts and is working on a chapbook.
Editor’s note: Okay MEN!! Lace up your boots and line up. It’s time to heal your inner child. Everyone else can connect with Myers @hellostarbuck wherever they get their social media.
