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