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