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