Peach Soda

October 14, 2022

There was a janky little store, 

In a crummy little town, 

In a drab little chunk 

Of blissfully boring Southern Illinois—

And it sold the best sodas. 


In the darkest corner

Of the grey-lit grocery store  

Glowed a navy chamber, 

Paned with glass, 

That bore the name: 

RC Cola. 


And within, it stored rows

Of off-brand beauties. 

Columns of neon cans

Storing neon drinks 

That tasted like you drank

Neon signs, 

Garnished with the filaments

Of neon lights 

Bathing the drinks in their light.


And there, I found the best soda

I remember.


It was a peach soda 

In a peachy can, 

With sprawling green letters 

Giving me its name. 

The soda bubbled and fizzed louder

And louder

Than any of the plain-Jane,


Flat-after-one-sip drafts 

That my mother kept

Inside our fridge. 


No, this was a magical potion,

Crafted by the most High wizards,

Imbuing the bubbles 

With the power of stars 

And the taste with 

Liquid drops of the sunset.

It had the power of nectar,

The transcendental high of the gods, 

And it had the power to hold memories. 


Each sip was ingrained with a dream, 

A whisper of years ago.

Of sitting on the couch 

With a lousy dog curled in my lap, 

A war movie on the TV. 

Or in the back seat of a bus, 

Drinking my fill of the nectar

Until I got sick.

Or sitting at the edge of a driveway,

Waiting for the stars to come meet me, 

And the sun to sink far down

Below the fields of wheat 

And black shadows of summer trees. 


A clear glass of peach soda,

Lifted to the sky for the colors to bleed together—

The sun and nectar the same rosy hue, 

The flitting bubbles dancing about 

Like the flickerings of stars 

Waiting to burn through the atmosphere. 

I could raise it high, high enough 

For it to be blessed by the light of Heaven, 

And it would always and forever 

Glow like a sunset in Illinois. 


And forever and always 

Will I desire the sunset in the Midwest. 

When I should I find myself longing, 

I will find a clear glass bottle of nectar, 

And I will drink.


Michaela Springer

Featured Image by Ashley Winkler on Unsplash