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