JULIA ALVAREZ


American Dreams

Image

Queens, NY, 1963

All day I dreamed of candy from the store

on Hillside Avenue: barrels filled with

caramels, tins of pastel mints and tiers

of chocolates beckoning in the window,

and a tinkling bell that tattled I was coming

in the door, a skinny girl, who didn’t look

thirteen, still reeling from the shock of

losing everything, and hungry all the time

for candy, more candy than I’d ever seen,

a whole store dedicated to delights,

proof we had arrived in the land of Milk

Duds, Chiclets, gumdrops, from the country

sugar came from but candy never got to.

I roamed the aisles, savoring the names:

Necco Wafers, Atomic Fireballs, Butterfingers,

while the fat man owner watched me, sitting

on a stool by the cash register; his pale eyes

like ice mints behind his foggy glasses, lingering

at my chest, as if the swelling buds under

my uniform’s white blouse were Candy Buttons,

Jujubes I’d shoplifted; while his tiny, perfumed

mother in black pumps and white lace collar

waited on older patrons, boxing chocolates,

petit-fours, assortments made to order

for wives and sweethearts, May I help you, dahlink?

in a heavy accent, an immigrant herself

from some past purge or pogrom; her “boy”

born here, the obese product of an American

dream gone greedily awry. He chatted as I

lingered over barrels, asking none-of-your-

business questions about my parents, grades,

what my people did on holidays. He knew

my favorites, commenting as he rang me up,

I see you like those SweeTarts Candy Necklaces

sure are a hit with your set. A hit? My set?

It was an intimacy I resented; my cravings

were dark secrets I didn’t want to share.

Will that be all today? he asked, as if he hoped

I’d say, Actually, I would like something else,

to marry you and help you run your candy store.

Outside, my new America was waking up

to nightmare: freedom fighters

marching; storefronts, some with candy

stores like this one, burning; girls like me

in bombed-out churches; dreams deferred,

exploding; dreams I didn’t know

still needed fighting for; all I knew

was hunger, as I learned the names

that promised sweeter dreams beyond

these candied substitutes, Juicy Fruits,

Life Savers, Bit-O-Honey, Good & Plenty.

from America