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