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