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