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