The ceiling in the kitchen begins to drip. Then it’s like a small waterfall. Then it stops. Then the ceiling in the kitchen crashes down and kisses the floor. Okay. The bathroom ceiling gets jealous. It falls down too. Okay. Our Super is from Eastern Europe. He says, “What you think ceilings don’t fall on you in Eastern Europe?” Me, I lived in that big dumb city for years. I couldn’t get mail there. Okay. Sometimes I had to wash my clothes in the bath tub. Okay. There’s would be a slip from the post office that I had a package. I’d walk over there but I couldn’t get my package even though I waited in line for half an hour, because fuck you, we hate you, we hope you die without knowing what your snail mail was. Okay. Once upon a time I moved out of that city to a smaller city. I could get mail again. The ceilings were cool. I liked the smaller city because I’d gotten married there and when I flipped on the light switch it worked because sometimes I was sent to the power plant to fix the power plant. Okay. But now they are demolishing the power plant. Okay. Whatever. I still like it here. People mailed their books to me in the smaller city. I got them. I got it. Thanks for mailing me your book. I don’t like it. I carry my clothes down to the laundry room. I pay two dollars and seventy five cents to wash and dry my clothes. Okay. This is nicer than the bath tub. I leave your book that you sent me that I don’t like down there in the laundry room. Okay. I give the book five stars on Goodreads.
Bud Smith's books are I'm From Electric Peak, F250, Calm Face, Everything Neon, and others. His writing has been at Hobart, Smokelong, The Rumpus and Wigleaf. He runs Unknown Press, works heavy construction, and lives in Jersey City, NJ. www.budsmithwrites.com