fat cap                  
                                          
                  
                                          
 in gardens among stones along  the river 
 grows  the  mushroom. between  ferns and 
 horsemint grows the mushroom. along  the 
 creek,  with  a  reddish  cap  and white 
 stem and quirky gleam in its  eyes grows 
              the mushroom.               
                                          
                                     
                                          
 i am dreaming. a  package  has  arrived. 
                                          
 through  the  park  i go to pick  it  up 
 from a  bitter lady. a  slot  in a wall, 
 lady  inside, me  outside with  the rest 
               of the world.              
                                          
                                     
                                          
 delivered is a ny fat cap, a nozzle  (or 
       "cap") for spray paint cans.       
                                          
 through young  forest, thin and  rubbery 
 whips shoot up  from the earth. kirskale 
    around my feet. concrete trenches,    
 abandoned  gray  walls. i shall  try the 
             new nozzle here.             
                                          
 the paint  inside  comes  out, it  comes 
 like a massage  shower, it comes like  a 
 thick  and slow beam.  rich with red and 
               gooey paint.               
                                          
 doesn't hit  anything.  it  keeps  going 
 and  never   reaches  the   walls.  it's 
 forever  falling,  but nothing  will  be 
                 stained.                 
                                          
                  
                                          
            i think to myself:            
        "new york fat cap" is weird