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