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