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