Train in Vain

Photograph by Jose Padua
When I lived in New York the landlord of my
building on Avenue B always called me
“Jose Baby,” while the woman in the apartment
above me who always got the pipes clogged
by flushing cat litter down the toilet was
“Fucking Stacy” and the woman below me
was nudge nudge, “Linda, wouldn’t ya like
a shot at her, Jose Baby?” but Linda’s boyfriend
was Shamir who always looked as serious as
a hit man and the only time I ever saw her
apartment was when water was dripping down
from my bathroom into hers one night when
the pipes burst because Fucking Stacy was
taking one long fucking shower in the bathroom
above mine, and her water went down her drain
into the pipe, then into a hole in the pipe
through which the water rushed and burst
a hole in my bathroom wall after which
the water flowed like the East River
down into Linda’s bathroom, and Linda
walked up to my apartment, knocked on the
door and asked “What is this shit?” then
walked me down to her bathroom where
I said, “Linda, this is Fucking Stacy’s
water, just passing through my bathroom
into yours,” and though no moisture was
ever exchanged again between Linda and me
we got along really well from that day on.

-Jose Padua

Photograph by Jose Padua

2 responses to “Train in Vain

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