In Praise of Ice Cream Vending Machines at a Greyhound Bus Station by Aimee Nezhukumatathil
- marychristinedelea
- 6 hours ago
- 3 min read
In Praise of Ice Cream Vending Machines at a Greyhound Bus Station
by Aimee Nezhukumatathil
All the buttons promise sweetness. After sitting
in a bus next to a man who clipped
his thick toenails (one shard of nail flicked
my eyeglasses!) nothing. I tell you nothing
is better than his woman in striped pants
collecting him and his trimmed toes
into her Pontiac. But then the glow
from the light-up pictures
on the machine dare to make my day even better—
toffee-coated bars, strawberry shortcake on a stick,
iced fudge—I choose the small cup of ice cream
complete with flat wooden spoon. Who can argue
with that? Who can argue with the teevees
bolted to each chair in the waiting room? News
of fifteen tornadoes striking at night.
News of another girl missing. Sugar hides
everywhere. I search for it in the faces
headed for Cleveland or Milwaukee. Until even
the spoon is so soggy I chew it, like sugar cane.
After some somber poems, I thought we'd read a cheerier one today . . . not that everything is this poem is happiness and joy. Of course, that's its point.
There is so much ging on in this delightful poem. We have a first-person speaker, some extreme spacing, and a back and forth between the ugly/sad and the beautiful/joyful.
This ode--and it is an ode--takes place in, of all places, a bus station, not known for sparking joy. And the speaker provides description that does nothing to change our minds: a man clipping his toenails, tvs bolted to the chairs (and their horrific news stories), and even the two cities she mentions. Not that Cleveland and Milwaukie are awful! But we've got some hard sounds in both names, and neither city does spring to mind when I think of gorgeous US cities. Honestly, when I think of cities with pretty names, I think Salem, Tampa, Biloxi, Fresno, Poughkeepsie, and a lot of other places that may also not be on anyone's list of beautiful cities. But the sounds!
Back to the poem. You know I love a poem with a question, and Nezhukumatathil gives us two, both starting with "Who can argue." She does this rather than saying "You can't argue," which is a great way to pull readers further in.
The thing that pushes her to praise is not just the vending machine, where "all the buttons promise sweetness" (what a description!), but the little cup of ice cream that comes with a wooden spoon. Remember these? They were not great ice cream and I shudder to think about the amount of preservatives in them.
But compared to a stranger's toenail smacking you in your glasses, that little bit of sugar would be pure joy. And the speaker assures us: "Sugar hides everywhere." Literal and metaphoric sugar--you sometimes just have to look for it, or take a chance, or see it in comparison to everything else, but it can be found.
I have loved this poem since the first time I read it--just the title is wonderful! It is in Aimee Nezhukutathil's 2007 book, At the Drive-In Volcano (another great title!), published by Tupelo Press. You can buy the book at their website, as well as other books by her. Click here.