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