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