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