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