Ice Cream for a Dollar

[matsunosuperfan]

Ice Cream for a Dollar

Before the nurse could end his life, my nephew
ran away. He’s full of good decisions. I always thought the lyrics
to that one Joanna Newsom song were Made me bold
/ like a whore. It took seven years for me
to learn instead she bolts, like a horse. My sister’s hopeless,
harmless boy. I caught up to him outside
Radiology, loving on the vending machine,
clutching at his hoodie like a baby
was inside. “Hey,” I said, unhelpfully, and then
for good measure, “hey.”  “Uncle Luke—” the boy
was almost sobbing—“I really don’t like needles. Like, who wants
to get hurt?” I told him no one does.

With kids you have to be prepared to lie and lie
and lie again, like old people, or Castro. Ronnie is from Cuba,
but he doesn’t smoke or drink. He came here in the 80s
on a student visa, bought an Art Deco apartment, owns a home gym
and an ice cream truck. Everyone that’s living
in Miami Beach today is happy to be dying soon
except for Ronnie. “Old people don’t understand
how money works,” he says, massaging coconut oil
into his guns, curling forty pounds. “They think ice cream
costs a dollar, so I charge them a dollar. That way,
everyone’s happy.” On slow days, or if I’m too drunk, I’ll ask him
about communism. “Not so bad,” he tells me
every time, “if you don't get shot."

[alonso ramoran]

Hey matsunosuperfan,

Took me some time to come around to critiquing this piece mostly because of political bias, and the bias making it hard to completely immerse myself in the subject. I wasn't sure if the poem was speaking on the "evils" of communism or if it was showing a certain mindset that private property owning refugees brought with them to the US. Maybe the latter. Maybe these 2 ideas are still completely out of left field and Ronnie was genuinely saying that communism is not so bad. After all a dollar for ice cream sounds like a good deal. Then again the speaker calls Castro a liar XD idk it's hard to say.

I'm trying to uncover what the poem is saying here. The first stanza may be a sort of reflection on pain and its purpose. Then the second stanza seems to introduce a new character that talks about the cost of ice cream who has had experience with living in socialist country.

Ice Cream for a Dollar

Before the nurse could end his life, my nephew immediately we begin with intrigue. i don't think it's satisfied though as the poem goes on bc i don't ever learn more about this nurse. was the nurse actually the nephew? that would carry some irony, as it's revealed he doesn't like needles. it's not clear.
ran away. He’s full of good decisions. I always thought the lyrics
to that one Joanna Newsom song were Made me bold
/ like a whore. It took seven years for me
to learn instead she bolts, like a horse. My sister’s hopeless, I think the song is In California? I thought the same regarding the lyric. this detail makes me think that experiencing a loved one doing what the lyric was actually saying made the speaker understand the lyric clearer. I wonder though, if this detail can be condensed in some way and if it really warrants 4 lines of explanation
harmless boy. I caught up to him outside
Radiology, loving on the vending machine, interesting that radiology is capitalized, i see no reason for it to be
clutching at his hoodie like a baby i imagine this as his arms were tightly crossed, almost hugging himself
was inside. “Hey,” I said, unhelpfully, and then
for good measure, “hey.”  “Uncle Luke—” the boy
was almost sobbing—“I really don’t like needles. Like, who wants
to get hurt?” I told him no one does. because this isn't quoted it makes me wonder if the speaker says this but with different words

With kids you have to be prepared to lie and lie
and lie again, like old people, or Castro. Ronnie is from Cuba, quite the topic jump in this line. I'm trying to figure out why I should care about Ronnie when I was just given an entire stanza of character building for a nephew and uncle.
but he doesn’t smoke or drink. He came here in the 80s
on a student visa, bought an Art Deco apartment, owns a home gym
and an ice cream truck. Everyone that’s living
in Miami Beach today is happy to be dying soon
except for Ronnie. “Old people don’t understand
how money works,” he says, massaging coconut oil
into his guns, curling forty pounds. “They think ice cream
costs a dollar, so I charge them a dollar. That way,
everyone’s happy.” On slow days, or if I’m too drunk, I’ll ask him
about communism. “Not so bad,” he tells me
every time, “if you don't get shot."

I'm not completely sure what to make of this. And it seems in part b/c the poem isn't sure what to make of itself. Interested to see where you take this.

Best,
AR