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