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