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