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