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