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