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