The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued

Page 15

Soda Fountain Dreams

“The Soda Fountain Dream”

He’s back in the summer of 1956, though he doesn’t know how. The air smells like fresh cut grass and gasoline, and the sun hangs low like a buttered biscuit in the sky. He’s ten again, shoelaces untied, pockets full of marbles, baseball cards, and Bazooka wrappers. The world is wide and slow, and everything important fits in a lunchbox.

He walks down Main Street, past the Rexall drugstore, where the soda jerk, Jimmy, with his paper hat and Elvis pompadour, waves like it’s yesterday. Inside, the counter glows chrome and cherry red. He orders a root beer float, and the glass is frosted like a dream. The jukebox plays “Blue Suede Shoes,” and the sound is warm, like a hug from the past.

Outside, the Schwinn bikes lean against the wall like sleeping horses. He hops on his and rides toward the vacant lot where the neighborhood kids have built a fort out of refrigerator boxes and Cold War bravado. They’re spies today, or astronauts, or cowboys, depending on who brought the props. The sky is the limit, and the limit hasn’t been invented yet.