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