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