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