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