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