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