Masters of the Universe

by Emily Smith

 

The couch was Naugahyde weave.

     Brown, light brown, yellow, orange, red thread.

Wood-laminate armrests.     The floor was ceramic tile.

The television straight across from the couch was vacuum-tubes and wood laminate surround;

     a dial that went to eleven—higher if you included UHF.

VHS system on top of the wood-laminate box.

    The backs of my legs were being scratched by plastic threads.

 

The rest of the house twinkled with wine glasses and throaty laughter.

Winding hallways between chopped up rooms with open doors and closed doors

     and closet doors and open closet doors and doors leading to the backyard,

doors leading to the front yard,

doors leading to people and people laughing

     and people drinking and people talking

and people.

 

My feet didn’t touch the floor.

 

Masters of the Universe was playing.

I watched the minutes and seconds tick on the VCR.

He-Man was sweaty and oiled     Blond haired and wide faced.

Skeletor an awkward mix of frightening and erotic    breast milk white face.

Brown, light brown, yellow, orange, red thread.

    Thin and sharp-edged.

My eyes fluttered as I tried to remember which was which,

    which was good,     which was bad,

    which was Earth,     which was fantasy.

 

I woke up when he sat next to me.

     The television had changed.

Still sweaty    still oiled    still blonde and wide faced.

Awkward mix of frightening and erotic

     breasts milk white        white face.

I looked away     looked at him.

 

He smiled.    I looked away.

Brown, light brown, yellow, orange, red thread.

    Frayed.

Rough and loose to my fingertips.

 

"It is bodies." he said.

    The smile had teeth now.

"It is nature. Beautiful."

 

I had teeth too.

My stomach shrank to the size of a pebble.

    Can a sweaty hand cradle your heart?

Brown, light brown, yellow, orange, red thread.

    The backs of my knees were rashed.

 

Eight year old’s bones are soft and malleable if you bite them.

 

"Do you like it?"

I tried to go blind while keeping my eyes open

     for the rest of time.

I curled around the wood-laminate armrest.

 

     He sighed and gave me the remote control before leaving.

Brown, light brown, yellow, orange, red thread.

The remote was skinnier than my palm and longer than my hand.

     I changed the channel.

 

I never said a word.